Flinx in Flux

by Alan Dean Foster

  “Then they are not intelligent,” Sowelmanu said.

  “I disagree.” He tried to prod the Sumacrea next to him into making additional noises. They responded with a succession of chitterings and phonetic intonations that if part of a language, suggested a very primitive one indeed.

  This was in contrast to their highly evolved emotional discourses, full of sensitivity and understanding. After trying to make sense of humanx feelings, it was like discovering a long-lost cluster of friends. He understood easily, without recourse to clarification, and he felt that they understood him, though his feelings must have seemed crude and coarse by comparison.

  Except for their unique method of communication, however, they were no more sentient than a tribe of apes.

  How perfectly suited to their environment! he thought. Why try to construct a word to describe something one could not see or show to a companion when one could instantly convey everything about it to another by ascribing an emotional resonance to it? One could explain whether it was good or bad, hard or soft. What he at first took to be color shadings he realized soon had nothing to do with colors but with feelings. These people, he mused, really could feel blue. It was an entirely new means of communication, one that cut readily across interspecies barriers in a way verbal description of abstract concepts could not.

  The average Sumacrea stood a little over a meter high. All those he examined fell within that limit. Either there were no infants in the area or they were being kept out of touching range. A hunting or exploration party, perhaps.

  “I think they’ve been aware of the humanx presence here for some time,” he told his companions, who were about to go crazy with pent-up curiosity. “They’ve just been cautious. One let me feel its teeth. I’d bet they’re vegetarians. Both humans and thranx are omnivorous, so they might have sensed you eating meat. That would make them understandably reluctant to initiate any kind of contact.”

  “It’s still incredible we never ran into any of them.” As she touched and was touched, Clarity momentarily forgot her terror of the blackness surrounding them. The presence of warm, friendly creatures helped keep the childhood fear at bay.

  “Not when you consider that they could feel you coming before any mere instruments could detect their presence.”

  “If they can understand our emotions, then they must know we intend them no harm,” Sowelmanu said.

  “Possibly.” At that moment the individual he was caressing suddenly jerked away from him. Flinx tried to ease his mind as much as possible. After a couple of minutes the Sumacrea returned and let the human resume his touching. This time Flinx was more careful when he reached the area that had produced the sharp reaction.

  “They do have eyes. Very small.”

  “I haven’t felt any,” Clarity said.

  “They’re on the backs of their heads.” He almost laughed. It had a salutary effect on the Sumacrea nearby, and they moved nearer. “I don’t know if they evolved that way or if earlier eyes migrated around the back the way a halibut’s move to the top of its head. If they’re only light sensors, it’s a way of detecting what’s behind you. Nose in front, eyes behind. You can watch your enemy while running away from him.” The thought came quick and unbidden.

  “That explains it. Anyone mapping or studying the caverns would come equipped with the brightest light they could carry.”

  He tried to conjure up the image of an exploding brightness. It was not really an emotional concept, but he put the feeling across. The Sumacrea recoiled, returning only when he had shunted the sensation aside.

  “Light-sensitive. The photomorphs would threaten them, too. Their concept of light is akin to a tremendous flame going off inside one’s head. There must be natural heat sources down here somewhere, hot springs or thermal pools. They have distinct, variegated emotions to describe differing degrees of temperature. Light comes near the top of the list even though to us it’s something quite cool. If someone had come down here without light, they would probably have made contact by now.”

  “How fortunate we are,” Sowelmanu muttered. “Disaster enables us to make the most important discovery in the brief scientific history of Longtunnel. A grand revelation no one else will ever hear about.”

  At the moment Flinx could not have cared less about their future. He was utterly immersed in the wondrous, extraordinary world he had uncovered. His impatient companions would simply have to wait until he tired of exploring it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Sumacrea had developed an infinitely more intricate emotional language than humans had ever dreamed of, and they were not averse to sharing it with him. In fact, their delight at encountering one so similar to themselves among the strangers who had come from the roof of the world was exceeded only by their desire to learn more about him and where he had come from. Sowelmanu and Clarity were forced to sit silently, occasionally conversing with each other, while Flinx sat motionlessly, his eyes closed, touching the natives on a level they could barely imagine.

  From time to time he would speak and try to explain what he was feeling, what he was learning. Words were a poor substitute for the actuality of soul-to-soul emotional communication.

  At the same time, he was trying to sort out Clarity’s feelings toward him. His confession, coupled with what he had told her of his history, would justify a certain animosity and even fear toward him on her part, but he could detect none of that. Her attitude was still friendly, affectionate even, but colored now by a definite ambiguity that she took pains to conceal in her speech.

  It did not bother him. Nothing could bother him now, enveloped as he was in the swirling, complex rush of emotions generated by the Sumacrea.

  It was astonishing how much could be communicated by emotion alone if one was subtle and precise, if one knew how to convey as well as sense. Hunger and thirst, fear of the fanatics above, admiration for the Sumacrea and for how they had coped with their lightless world—he had no trouble explaining himself or understanding their replies.

  Under their tutelage his ability was rapidly refined, his talent honed. They knew Pip for a friend as well as they did his master, and Scrap also, but they were sorrowed and puzzled by the blindness that afflicted his other companions. He tried to explain that he could understand them clearly but that while they could crudely convey their own emotions, they could not sense those of others at all. They were shocked when he told them that of all his kind, he was the only one he knew who could communicate readily with them via feelings and emotions.

  He decided that blindness was a relative term, the lack of sight a matter of history. Vision was a broad term encompassing all manner of perception. In the case of sight by light, it could be enhanced or brought to life by any number of medical techniques. Transplants, inserts, miniature video cameras connected directly to the optic nerves—all were feasible if one had access to enough money.

  But despite the Commonwealth’s technical skills, he knew of no method for improving the emotional sensitivity of man or thranx, no way to make audible the deeply felt and stirring dialogue of the Sumacrea.

  “You’re sure,” Clarity asked him the following day, “that you’re not just exchanging feelings with these people? That you’re actually communicating with them? Without words?”

  “I’m sure, and it’s becoming easier. You just have to learn how to manipulate your emotions the way you would sentences. Like ancient Chinese writing, you exchange entire concepts at once instead of using words to form sentences. For example, instead of saying, ‘I want to go to the other side of the cavern,’ you have to express your longing to be in a certain place. If you do that to the exclusion of all else, I guarantee one of the Sumacrea will come over and take you by the hand. It won’t do for science or mathematics, but it serves better than you think for putting across simple ideas.”

  “Since you are becoming so skilled at this unique method of communication . . .” Sowelmanu began.

  “I didn’t say I was getting skilled.
Just meandering along.”

  “Isn’t it about time you tried to project our intense desire to return to the vicinity of the outpost? By a roundabout route, should they be familiar with one.”

  “If it exists, I’d bet the Sumacrea know of it. We have time. Shouldn’t we wait a while longer? Our food is holding out well, and if they do show us the way, it shouldn’t take long to climb back to the level we left.”

  The geologist’s mandibles made a sound indicative of mild derision mixed with second-degree impatience. “While I confess I am becoming used to this darkness, that does not mean I am growing fond of it.”

  “The longer we stay, the better attuned I become to the Sumacrea’s method of communication.”

  “Are you sure that’s the real reason you aren’t in a hurry to leave?” Clarity was sitting close to him in the darkness. He knew she was near because during the past few lightless days, their respective senses of smell and hearing had grown acute. “It’s obvious you share something unique with these people. Something which Sowel and myself cannot share with you. As far as this kind of communication is concerned, he and I are effectively blind, as you’ve put it. It’s no fun being blind in the land of the locally sighted, Flinx.

  “Maybe you aren’t in a rush to get back to the port. Maybe this kind of emotional intercourse is all you want right now. But Sowel and I need light and speech. And all of us need to find out what’s happening.”

  “Just a little while longer. That’s all I’m asking for.” Flinx was not aware of the intensity of his plea, though of course the Sumacrea were. “You don’t understand. I’m completely comfortable here. These are the first people I’ve ever encountered that I could be totally myself with. I don’t have to watch what I say or how I react. I’m not constantly on guard. I can’t hide anything from them, and I don’t want to, nor can they hide how they feel from me. That’s the truth. I can tell.”

  “You can,” she replied, “but Sowel and I can’t. Flinx, we have to make our way back to port. We need to find out if the rest of the installation has managed to hold out against the fanatics or if we can help in some way. That should be our first priority. If everything’s settled down and they’ve left or been driven off, then you can scramble back down here and . . .” She hunted briefly for the right word. “. . . meditate all you want.

  “The discovery of native sentients will naturally change the way exploration and research are carried out on Longtunnel. But it won’t stop. Our work will continue and will enable us to help the Sumacrea. They must suffer dreadfully from the depredations of creatures like the vexfoot and the dart shooters.” A different note crept into her voice as she argued with him.

  “Flinx, Sowelmanu and I are going a little crazy down here while you sit like a statue swapping emotions with your native friends. If my feelings mean anything to you, and I know you can sense them, then please, please help us find the way back to the port, where we can do some good. We have a responsibility to our friends and coworkers.”

  “I don’t,” he told her simply.

  The mass emotions of the Sumacrea washed over him like a warm wave, highly refined, precise, as complex as any spoken language: feelings of love, of mild hunger or thirst, of family bonding and affection. Curiosity and confusion, amusement and sadness, admiration and disappointment needed no explanation or elaboration to be understood. He could listen to them simultaneously or tune out the background and concentrate on a single individual who would respond in kind. There was no hesitation or artifice, no lying when it could instantly be detected. No theft when a thief’s guilt would mark him as brilliantly as a signpost in the darkness. No envy of appearance when there was nothing to see. In the world of the Sumacrea, no one looked good. All that mattered was how one felt.

  Odd that a blind society should be more peaceful and content than a sighted one. The Sumacrea were calm and relaxed among themselves. There was much to learn from studying them, from living among them, and of all humanxkind, only he was properly equipped to do so. A number of ancient human philosophers had imagined societies whose members existed in perfect harmony with the natural world, but as far as Flinx could remember, not one of them had postulated blindness as a precondition for the success of such a social organization. And of course none of them had ever envisioned anything like empathic telepathy.

  If not for Clarity and Sowelmanu, he would have remained without hesitation, working and studying in the darkness, exchanging ideas and whole concepts without ever uttering a word. He would have Pip for additional companionship. But his friends would go mad here, unable to share in the Sumacrean discourse, wondering what was happening to their associates and colleagues back at the outpost. His own revelations and conversation would not substitute for that.

  Dammit! he thought to himself. The one resolution he had vowed to keep—not to involve himself in the affairs of others and to keep aloof—was the one resolution he was constantly breaking. By saving Clarity, he had involved himself in her life. By helping Sowelmanu, he had done the same with the thranx. He now had a responsibility to both of them. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how diligently he worked at it, he always seemed to find himself tied to the destinies of people he had never met before.

  Perhaps the port’s defenders had managed to subdue the unmilitary fanatics. Or possibly they had reached a truce allowing them to depart. Clarity was right. It might be perfectly safe to return to the outpost complex. If not, they could conceal themselves in the main warehouse, as they had originally intended. And if the attackers still held sway, the Sumacrea would be here to welcome them back. In that event, he told himself, neither Sowelmanu nor Clarity would argue with a decision to return.

  Right now his companions’ desire to have light again, to speak to other humans and thranx, far outweighed their fear of being captured. Clarity had reason enough to stay clear of the fanatics, but if she was so desperate to return, then he owed it to her to at least find out what was happening. She had held up remarkably well since their last light tube had been lost, but he could sense the constant edginess and terror in her. She was uncomfortable at best. Unable to perceive as he could, she drew no benefit or reassurance from the Sumacrea’s presence. To her they were not a soothing repository of friendship. They were only whistling, grunting, unseen shapes.

  Dammit again. I can’t even bury myself literally. He sucked cool air. “I’ll talk to them about leading us back. No, that’s not right. I guess you could say I’ll feel them out on the subject. I’ll try to explain what’s happening at the outpost, what our position is in the situation, and why we have to go back.

  “They’re not ignorant of the surface, by the way. They have legends that speak of it, tales of brave individuals who reached the great fiery cave that lies above the real world. They wore masks to shield them from the light, dim as it is after it’s been filtered through that perpetual cloud cover.”

  A hand fumbled at his shoulder. Fingers trailed down his arm until Clarity had hers locked in his. Her relief at his decision was apparent in her voice as well as her emotions.

  “Thank you, Flinx. I really couldn’t take this much longer. I tried so hard not to say anything.”

  “You didn’t have to say anything,” he told her, and was immediately embarrassed at having reminded her of her lack of emotional privacy. “I’ll converse with them right now, tell them what we want to do. What we have to do.”

  There were no Sumacrea close by, but it was easy enough to call some. All he had to do was project a desire for company, for companionship, and add his own emotional signature. Clarity and Sowelmanu had them as well, though they could use them only involuntarily and without conscious control. A moment later several of the natives could be heard shuffling toward them in the darkness.

  He felt his companions turning toward the new arrivals and smiled to himself. They might not have his abilities, but smell and hearing compensated somewhat. They were not as blind and helpless as they thought.

  “Kee
p in mind,” he reminded his friends, “that first of all they may not consent to help guide us, and second, there may not be a way open to the outpost.” There were plenty of additional reasons for pessimism, but he kept them to himself. Clarity’s feelings of hope were too strong for him to want to dampen them with reality.

  Emotion traveled well in the caverns. He wondered if a Sumacrea would be as overwhelmed and disturbed as he was whenever his Talent was functioning at full capacity in a major city, surrounded by thousands of feeling, emoting people. Here it was easy to identify individuals, to project precisely.

  Strange to be having an in-depth emotional exchange with people you had never set eyes on and might never actually see. He had learned to think of them, at least the ones with whom he conversed on a frequent basis, by name. The names were suggested by their emotional signatures. There was Weeper, who oddly enough was the least emotional of the tribe, and his friend Heavy, and Thoughtful-grave. They absorbed the feelings he projected toward them and pondered.

  As expected, the exchange did not proceed smoothly. The Sumacrea were convinced that if they went too close to the Outer Cave, they would not be able to find their way back. It was a region devoid of all feeling, and it frightened them. Flinx argued with them patiently, Pip sitting supine on his shoulders, knowing that his emotions were going out pure and clean and unmistakable. It calmed them, and they agreed to help.

  Thoughtful-grave and Heavy knew the way up to the Outer Cave, from which they had lately detected strange emotions and sensations, feelings they now understood after having encountered Flinx and his friends. Clearly there were more like them above, thinking, intelligent creatures in spite of their blindness.

  There was nothing to pack. Food they would find along the way. The route they would take was not far but complex.

  When the time came to leave, there was much touching and exchange of strong emotions. For the first time the Sumacrea revealed the depth of their trust by bringing forth their offspring, small, furry things on short legs that whistled and hooted frequently as they carefully caressed the huge bodies of the visitors from the Outer Cave.