Written in Light

by Jeff Young

  “But we have put it off as long as we can. Come, we must go to the river.”

  With that, Zoi’ahmets put two branches under Kiona’s arms and lifted her up onto a root group. Zoi’ahmets hoped she’d done the right thing. She also wondered when she’d stopped mistrusting her companion.

  After she convinced the chenditi to reconfigure the sling for the sleep sack and then use their nanofacture reserves to seal the sack with most of their number inside, Zoi’ahmets slowly waded out into the rush of the river waters. The chenditi in the sleep sack converted the water seeping into the sack into hydrogen for themselves and oxygen for Kiona while the remainder buffered the carbon dioxide levels and vented the waste. Clustered together, they formed a dark blister on top of the sleep sack. The chenditi forced air cells into the tops of Zoi’ahmets’s main xylem spaces, making the large hollows in her body airtight and buoyant. Along with Zoi’ahmets’s natural tendency to float, this kept all of them above the surface. The worst part was the lack of control. Dealing with unseen obstacles that sought to trap her bulk and pull them under was another problem. The difficulty lay in finding the appropriate mix of current and depth to allow maximum speed and control. Zoi’ahmets was discouraged to see so much of the life she carefully placed into the environment swirling out of control about her in the raging waters of the river.

  Past midday, Zoi’ahmets made an unpleasant discovery. She realized that they were drifting farther from the eastern shore into an increasingly accelerating current. Debris struck them on all sides as Zoi’ahmets wrapped branches about the precious cargo of the sleep sack and tumbled through the water. She pushed desperately with her root clusters to no avail. After an hour of failure, Zoi’ahmets realized the only answer—make for the western shore. Dragging them out of the river onto the muddy shoreline, she looked back across the water. Now there was an additional obstacle keeping them from their destination. When Zoi’ahmets gently opened the sleep sack, she found that Kiona’s fever finally broke. The swelling in the girl’s foot and leg had begun to recede. But now, Kiona felt desperately hungry and became weaker. The worst news arrived last. The chenditi from the top of the sleep sack were gone, washed away in the final desperate hour.

  They spent the last hours of daylight gaining some distance from the flood plain and drying out the sleep sack. Kiona insisted that her camera once again be clipped to the exterior.

  Kiona’s brief physical, limited by the loss of a third of the swarm, revealed something new, now that Zoi’ahmets was more familiar with her physiology. The continuing infection was not due to the initial wound. Kiona’s white blood cells singled out those invaders and eliminated them over time. But her body continued to produce an elevated amount of white blood cells because she was still being affected by something else. Zoi’ahmets had the chenditi begin to search for the unknown irritant but ran out of light before the results arrived.

  As the first breeze of night riffled through Zoi’ahmets’s crown, Kiona spoke, “What a lovely scent. I wonder where those flowers are.” She sighed contentedly and pulled the sleep sack tight about her.

  Zoi’ahmets slumped slightly. Due to the continuing high level of stress, the change in her body proceeded without her assent. Zoi’ahmets’ trunk shook with exhaustion and frustration. Despite her confidence in the biosphere she created, she would have never chosen this. Zoi’ahmets was blooming.

  The next morning, waiting for Kiona to awaken, Zoi’ahmets tossed the petals one by one into the river. The water had at last begun to recede. If her calculations were correct, they had traveled too far. The remaining chenditi drifted like a cloud high into the sky and then returned to bring back their observations. The river bent into an oxbow, and their wild ride carried them further from the neutral judging area. Now they were eighteen kilometers and a river crossing away from safety. The chenditi found a possible crossing another two kilometers downriver, but that was still more distance and time.

  The girl stirred briefly when Zoi’ahmets moved toward the river but had swiftly fallen back asleep. Zoi’ahmets glanced down at Kiona’s lax face. Kiona swallowed some more water, but her body was shutting down, protecting the human, as her hunger, which Kiona tried to ignore, grew more desperate. The reason for Kiona’s presence still eluded Zoi’ahmets. Time was running out. The wickurn lurched forward down to the streamside once again.

  ~*~

  Looking back across the river, Zoi’ahmets could not remember finishing the crossing. She vaguely remembered thrashing about, losing leaves and scraping rocks that sheared off wide swaths of bark. The sleep sack sloshed with excess water. Zoi’ahmets slid Kiona out of the sack into a boneless pile and then had to grab desperately after the girl as Kiona scrambled away. Instinctively, Kiona began pulling up the variform grass and trying to shove it into her mouth.

  Zoi’ahmets’s branches gathered Kiona up, scooping out the grass, washing off the cuts the rough surfaces made on her mouth and slapping the last med patch on her wrist.

  Zoi’ahmets stood there for a moment, letting the sun wash over her, her mind dazed by recent events. But something bothered the wickurn, something she had seen when she looked at the human health records, specifically at their replicating code, DNA. Zoi’ahmets could see the dancing spiral forming over and over again, and still, the pattern that the chenditi had shown her for Kiona was different. Different in such a small way that only a being that designed worlds for its living might have noticed—but still wrong. This time the code didn’t dance. It wobbled, it stumbled, but only in spots that were ordinarily filled with discord. What kind of species left this much junk in their codons?

  Holding Kiona against her trunk as the girl sobbed, Zoi’ahmets enlisted the chenditi’s help in spreading the sleep sack out to dry among her branches. When Kiona finally reached upward to the swelling fruit that came from the shed flowers, Zoi’ahmets didn’t even try to stop the girl. She could feel Kiona’s hands among the joins of the branches at her crown and the tearing sensation as each fruit let go. Instead of hurling the human from her as Zoi’ahmets’s instincts prompted her, she clutched Kiona tighter. As Zoi’ahmets desperately tried to find something to distract her from the horror of what was being done to her, the wickurn suddenly realized what she saw. The oddities in Kiona’s DNA made sense if and only if she accepted one proposition. What Kiona had done in distress did not compare to this.

  Hardened by the knowledge, Zoi’ahmets turned and plunged onward toward the judging area with a renewed resolution. She hadn’t come this far to fail now.

  The first cloud of chenditi that came boiling out upon the news of Zoi’ahmets’s arrival at the judging area went directly for her. Waving away their attentions, she demanded they see to the nearly comatose human at her side. Kiona was gently removed and carried off, the purplish blood of Zoi’ahmets’s potential children still staining the girl’s lips. Brushing off the attentions of the chenditi, Zoi’ahmets doggedly pushed on into the wickurn enclave. Time, she had so little time. Some things needed to be set in motion, and Zoi’ahmets dearly hoped she could trust her colleagues. Soon she would be called to account, to the judges, to the humans, but first, Zoi’ahmets had to do the impossible. She must speak to the arbiter.

  A few moments later, Zoi’ahmets whirled down the hallway to the central dome of the installation. Kiona’s tiny camera she entrusted to her assistants, as well as a copy of all of the recent data from her tour of the Dispute and the single most important item, a heavily encrypted version of Zoi’ahmets’s suspicions. Outside of the doorway to the Court of the Dispute, Zoi’ahmets reached into her xylem space and pulled out the worn canister housing the remainders of the chenditi swarm. They were difficult to coax into the container before entering the neutral area. Perhaps the loss of their numbers made the little mass mind more sluggish and easily confused. Zoi’ahmets spun to a stop in front of the doors.

  Her translator box proclaimed loudly, “I am here to see the arbiter. I have evidence concerning the judgment of
this Dispute.”

  Zoi’ahmets shifted uneasily. Anyone could bring formal evidence or concerns about the Dispute, but this was to be done in the court of judgment. The identity of the arbiter was always kept secret. She could feel the traffic of passing species come to a slow halt and all eyes or senses coming to bear on her. Zoi’ahmets held up the container of chenditi and shook it briefly. “I said, I will see the arbiter.”

  With that, the doors slid open, and Zoi’ahmets slipped through them into the alcove ahead. The doors slammed shut behind her as the set opposite folded back. Ahead lay nothing but darkness. Zoi’ahmets spun slowly forward into the echoing space. She could just make out the central walkway before the doors folded shut, leaving her without a single source of light. Zoi’ahmets uncapped the container of chenditi and shook them free. “You need to know what these have to offer,” she stated. With that, Zoi’ahmets settled back to wait.

  Zoi’ahmets’ suspicions were rewarded in a few moments. Light began to filter down from the ceiling of the dome as the thousands of chenditi, which clung to the skylight windows, dropped into flight. The light sparkled across them as they wove and dove like a flock of avians. Patterns, shadows, and absences flickered across the mass as it spun, filling the great dome from one side to the other.

  “You will tell us. We will tell the arbiter,” came through Zoi’ahmets’s translator box. Time to drive in the first spike, she thought.

  “There is no difference. You are the arbiter. You know all that the swarm that I carried knows. You know that someone has tampered with this Dispute.”

  The cloud of chenditi spun faster, and Zoi’ahmets could feel the air begin to move slightly in the great hall. Now she would see if the supposition that she formulated was correct. The chenditi with their past would make formidable arbiters as well as their ability to condense into a mass mind with tremendous calculative powers. What kind of debate went on in that great mind now? Would the chenditi kill her with the many nanomachines they carried? Would she simply vanish? Pointless to worry, for already they were in motion again, spreading out across the roof of the dome, the light failing.

  “You know that there is a human-specific microorganism designed to limit the fertility of their species, made to settle in their DNA and rewrite junk sequences that would be passed along to their descendants, causing a decline in their fecundity. This world was only a test since there are human judges. Whoever did this did not expect the humans to bring their child, who is just becoming fertile, and that the virus would affect her like an allergy. Since her body would not develop a defense for it, and since the virus is airborne, she was constantly re-exposed. Her white blood cells kept trying to defeat the invader, whereas, in an adult, the virus would have settled in gradually using various hormones to fool the lymphocytes. The elevated hormones of the change in her body kept affecting the invader, and it kept the chenditi and me from discovering the virus until just before our arrival.”

  It was dark now, and a continuing rustle from the chenditi proved that not all the mind came back to rest. No response came. Zoi’ahmets hadn’t expected one. While capable, none of the other races judging this Dispute would have ever considered such an action. This information pointed to a species capable of manipulating matter on a very small scale, a species able to calculate vast odds. But they made one small error. They chose the wrong test subject. They were outwitted by the vagaries of nature, timing, and development. Only luck caused Kiona to be affected as she was. Zoi’ahmets continued to wait. Perhaps the time had come to sink another barb or two.

  “A carrier had to spread the virus. I find it hard to believe that she could gain access to the Dispute before judging. Therefore, she was allowed entrance. The human carried a very interesting device along that kept a constant record of the entire trip. I made sure to send it to her companions—after the record’s information, along with my observations, went to the closest three wickurn outposts on nearby worlds. As a good observer and scientist, I made sure that I completely backed up my data. However, I never revealed what I have told you. But this information in the hands of qualified persons could lead them to certain conclusions.”

  The flare of light was sudden as more than half of the chenditi left their perches to fall through the air swooping madly about, the chamber singing with the speed of their passage. Zoi’ahmets pulled in her branches and leaflets completely. Chenditi dropped like rain, all rushing toward her. They clung in successive layers, coat after coat. Zoi’ahmets’ eyes were swiftly covered. Her branches began to buckle inward, and it felt as if her xylem spaces were beginning to crack. How long before the mind calculated the odds? For or against? Had she guessed right? Would she even live that long? Would some unforeseen accident befall this world and all of those who received the information?

  Her mind continued to race in the darkness. Tiny rasping sensations came from every inch of her bark. They were eating her alive. Like some giant swarm, they would consume her and leave nothing but dust behind if their monstrous weight didn’t crush her first. She felt a minor branch snap. Then Zoi’ahmets thought she felt a shift and her trunk leaned to the left. They were twisting her. She would snap like a green twig. But gradually, the pressure grew less as she realized they were quieting. Finally, the translator box emitted a signal.

  “Whom will you tell about our identity as arbiter?”

  Zoi’ahmets considered briefly—interesting that they were ignoring her accusation. “Surely, I am not the first to guess. There have to be other species, which given the proper clues, have come to the same conclusion.” Already Zoi’ahmets could feel the coating of thousands of tiny bodies beginning to slowly lift.

  “The nature of your dispersion of information will end our tenure. It is therefore irrelevant. The humans will not be adjusted. Those here will be returned to normalcy. What is your response?”

  “I have a theory, nothing else. Soon I suspect I will have no proof. Why would I pursue something I cannot prove? My time is better spent working on the Diversiform, where I belong.”

  “The Dispute will continue. Another arbiter will be assigned. Leave.”

  After the last of the chenditi wafted upward to hang in an immense churning spiral, Zoi’ahmets stood there staring at the ceiling. Shocked to be still alive, she spun about and headed toward the slowly opening doors.

  Zoi’ahmets felt relief that someone exercised the forethought to wash the stains from around Kiona’s mouth. Rushes of unresolved feelings coursed through her as she once again pushed aside the thoughts created by those last desperate hours that brought them to the neutral area. Kiona remained facing away from Zoi’ahmets. She knew Kiona heard her rustling entrance and felt Zoi’ahmets clipping the small camera to the top of the healing restraint. When Kiona finally turned, the girl couldn’t seem to meet Zoi’ahmets’s gaze.

  The medical hammock Kiona lay wrapped in reminded Zoi’ahmets briefly of the sleep sack. But its sloshing nutrient packs, glistening readout patches, and clusters of ropy coils that fell from the ceiling ended the similarity.

  “Thank you,” was all that Kiona could manage at first. The water from her eyes coursed down her face mixing with the other fluids that were packed about her ravaged body. Zoi’ahmets shuffled closer. “After what I did, why would you do all you did for me?” Kiona asked.

  That was a truly puzzling question. Zoi’ahmets considered her response. During the early parts of the journey, she did act selfishly to preserve her work. As time went on, her view of the situation changed until the final revelation. Kiona didn’t understand the greater issue, and Zoi’ahmets could not tell her. But there was something else that prompted Zoi’ahmets’s actions that she could share.

  “I told you that to a wickurn, all parts of the Diversiform are important. I believe that the idea that only the strong should survive works in situations where intelligent life does not have control of its surroundings. To be a true participant of a Dispute, one must understand the environment one creates and accep
t that intelligent life changes the outcomes of situations left to nature. But this is only a theory, not a law.”

  A brief smile touched Kiona’s features at that. The girl worked one of her arms loose from the hammock’s restraints and pulled out the round white bag she carried throughout their journey. “I wouldn’t let them have it. Here.”

  With that, Kiona settled back into the hammock, her features slowly becoming lax as she faded from consciousness into sleep.

  Outside in the hallway, Zoi’ahmets opened the sack and peered at the round nodules that clustered at its bottom—the seeds. In all that happened, Zoi’ahmets never realized that Kiona saved every one, instead of scattering Zoi’ahmets’s children across the land of the Dispute. That time might come, eventually, and now—thanks to Kiona’s thoughtfulness—it could.

  Opportunity/Chance

  From: Chance

  To: Eva

  Sent: Thu, Jun 14, 20## 12:30 PM

  Dr. #############,

  It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Director ######## and my programmer, Dr. ######, suggested that I reach out to you. Thank you for the hard work you’ve done successfully creating a voice for our exploratory rovers on Mars. I am sure that you are looking forward to the opportunity (couldn’t help myself there) to get back to real experimental science the same way that I am looking forward to taking over the Twitter account for Opportunity. I will take inspiration from your excellent work, and if you are ever so inclined, you are more than welcome to send me additional material for future use.