Still Forms On Foxfield

by Joan Slonczewski

  He stared uncertainly.

  “Why don’t you all go back and leave us alone? You can take that and shove it up your SLIT.”

  The wristband thudded on the floor. Casimir vanished; the chamber dimmed to a reddish glow. The portal slid open and stars winked in. Allison stepped down and skipped off across the wide mattress of ground moss.

  “Allison.” A faint voice called from behind.

  “Who’s there?” She turned and saw someone in Foxfield clothes, back near the transcomm. They walked toward each other.

  “Allison—I want to help you.” It was Kyoko; her tense features stood out in the moon’s light.

  “What for?” Allison bitterly rejoined. “Convenient farmland? Avoid thermolysis and reculturing?”

  “You know that’s not so. I don’t want to see it happen…here. I believe in you people.”

  “You do? You don’t even know who we are.” Her eyes narrowed. “Silva put you up to this.”

  “No.”

  “But she knew you would, though. High percentage, at least, no?”

  Kyoko said nothing.

  Allison laughed then, soundlessly. “Of course they knew,” she mused. “All the Adjustors. They monitored us long enough. Then they chose you, right? A lonely systemist-physicist with a lost love in the background; just the type to synchronize with my psyche.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying. I made sacrifices, my studies suffered; I chose to come here.”

  “You all used me to drive a wedge into Foxfield, right? A sort of sociological SLIT? You can’t fool me, I know Earth history; my mother stuffed minds and gullets long before Cliff did. Technology, the carrot; weapons, the stick. It’s called cultural imperialism. Seduce us with a technological orgasm.”

  Kyoko sucked in her breath. “Mind’s eye, but you people are just—impossible,” she breathed. “Allison, I’ll tell you something about ‘imperialism,’ but let me tell you about honor, first. People of my heritage believe in honor, life with honor and death with honor, because death is a part of life which we don’t run away from. That’s right, run away; your people ran away from Earth because you couldn’t face life, because society didn’t quite fit your own ideals. Doesn’t everyone have ideals?”

  “Run away?” Allison repeated. “A star voyage—because we were scared?”

  “The Japanese people were not scared,” Kyoko said. “We had the courage to stay and preserve our heritage. More than that—we had the guts not to build nuclear weapons, for seventy years after Hiroshima. Talk about cultural imperialism; did Japan cry ‘imperialism’ three centuries ago, when Commodore Perry sailed his cannons into Edo Bay? No; we took those occidental gifts which suited us, and kept our own cultural identity.

  “Allison, you decry ‘suicide.’ Civilizations suicide, too, you know. That’s what happened to your Westerran civilization. At least Japan was there afterward to pick up the pieces.”

  “And did you learn nothing from them, or from us?” Allison whispered.

  Kyoko paused. “Do you really believe that this ‘Light’ is the whole answer, the whole purpose to life? That it’s just the Lord’s will whether you live or die in the end?”

  Allison said nothing.

  “Then what makes you so self-righteous, so sure that your way on Foxfield is the one true way of the universe? So sure you need no help from anyone else? What would you have done when all the old modules finally broke down? Do you realize how slim your chances are alone out here—a mere eight hundred of you? A single epidemic could wipe you out.”

  “Eight hundred thirty-six. Your logic needs no comment, in light of recent events.”

  “What if there had been no Rachel Coffin,” Kyoko went on. “No lone voice to stand up for the ‘killer commensals’? What good would your consensus have been, then? You would have tried to eliminate the creatures, and eliminated yourselves in the process. You’re no better than we are.”

  “Maybe so. The point is that Rachel was there, and that with the Friends’ way, the lone voice was heard. In UNI, what’s an individual? One vote out of millions.”

  “But I’m an individual, Allison. I want to help you.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll go to the Dwelling. I’ll ‘share blood’ with Her.”

  In the kitchen Allison yawned and sipped her tea. Rufus Jones slept on in the comer, fat and lazy, all eyefeet tucked in. The dial on her ring finger read seventeen-forty-two west. “How many folks do you suppose are watching us, right now?” she mused.

  “Zero, point zero zero,” said the System.

  “What? Where are the impassioned millions?”

  “Blackout on long distance,” Kyoko explained from across the table. “Effected this afternoon by Special Status mandate.”

  Allison sighed. “Should’ve known. Adjustors always keep a card up their sleeve.” She looked up. “So you’re determined to go, are you?”

  Kyoko nodded. “It can’t be that dangerous. The Coral Vale people go there all the time, no?”

  “They know what they’re doing—I think. Still, I never heard of a Foxfielder that died of it. The Dwelling knows a lot; it’s much bigger than any one Fraction.”

  “I see. When do we start?”

  “Tomorrow, I guess. If we’re not too late already.” One chance in six per half-day, if Rashernu had been accurate.

  Kyoko nodded. “Will Seth guide us? He did a good job for Casimir.”

  Allison winced. “You would have to bring that up. I don’t even know where Seth is; he didn’t want to face me, I guess. Can’t say I blame him.”

  “Well, let’s find him. Use the System.”

  “He doesn’t wear a credo.”

  Kyoko glanced at her wrist. “Locate Foxfield non-citizen Seth Connaught,” she ordered.

  The voice said, “Last record sixteen-twenty-six local. Proceed?”

  “Proceed,” said Kyoko.

  Seth’s voice played back against the crowded aftermath of the emergency Meeting. “Jem—a word with you?”

  “Sure thing. Bad break, isn’t this?”

  “…need someplace to stay the night.”

  “Come on over. What’s wrong, your woman kick you out?”

  Allison reddened. The voices dissolved and broke off; but someone had worn a credometer there, and that was enough.

  “That was Jeremiah Crain,” said Allison, “Seth’s cousin in Georgeville. Mine, too, I think, twice removed or something.”

  “The Friend who outfitted us? My, it’s a small world.”

  A few good replies to that came to Allison’s mind, none of them fit for the ears of young Friends. “I’ll go see him,” she said.

  “Shall I come, too?” said Kyoko.

  “No…I think I’d better see him alone.”

  Seth stared at her in the unfamiliar sitting room. His shoulders drooped but his gaze was fierce as ever. “So you want me to take you and your woman-friend to the Dwelling?”

  “It’s the only way. Once She sees that an off-worlder can share blood, She’ll have to—”

  “You ask me,” Seth added, “after selling me out, and Foxfield, too?”

  “What the—” Allison tried to keep her voice down, and shifted in her seat.

  “You think I’m blind when my back is turned?”

  “Seth, whatever you’ve gotten into your head, it just isn’t so. And suppose it were; do you think you own me?” She paused for breath. “I’ve loved you for years and years, and what do I get? Trouble comes, and off you go to Lord knows where.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t understand; never did.”

  “Did you ever try? What about me, don’t I know anything?”

  “You couldn’t face it. Not the Dwelling. You never could face Foxfield; all you ever dreamed of was old Earth, with all those machines to take care of you. To prevent accidents—like Joshua, who’s still alive in your head. Finally Earth came back, and that was it; you sold out.”

  “Seth, it’s not true. I d
on’t want Josh’s ghost; I want you. I want Foxfield, too; I’m trying to save Foxfield, don’t you understand?”

  “Foxfield doesn’t need you. The One will take care of that; I told you She would.”

  “What? Did you actually tell Her to—”

  “So what if I had? After what the frog-suits did to you? I care, if you don’t.”

  “Seth, no,” she whispered faintly.

  “I only agreed with Her decision, whatever Her reason. We can’t change Her mind, even at Coral Vale.”

  “Then they’re all cooked, now, literally,” said Allison. “All the ’mensals.”

  He stared, uncomprehending.

  “You should’ve stayed to hear Silva,” she added. “Thermolysis; they’ll boil the planet like a soup pot, then refertilize with tame things.”

  “They can’t.”

  “They can, like Vinlandia. Evacuate us; send in stellar energy through a SLIT—”

  “They won’t.”

  “They will.”

  “No.” Seth spun around and held his head in his hands. His back shook with sobbing. Allison put her arm around him and kneaded his shoulder.

  “Seth,” she said, “don’t you see? It’s you that have forgotten the Light, what Friends are all about. You can’t force people. Force only invites counterforce—worse.”

  “It’s no use, Sonnie. I never could reach anyone, not even you. At least the One was always…there.”

  “And haven’t I been here, always?” She pulled him back again, and looked into his eyes, at his cheeks, his cleft chin. “What if She can change Her mind? Kyoko’s got the guts to find out. Isn’t it worth a try? What about us, Seth; can’t we try, for once?”

  They kissed, and held each other for a long time.

  At last Seth looked up once more, his face still in shadows. “A wheel runs downhill, Sonnie,” he whispered. “I thought you knew different, once; do you? Sometimes I wonder what in heaven really is worth trying for.”

  XV. Silence Multiplied

  Noreen looked on anxiously as her Uncle Seth and Allison awaited the shuttle. Their hair blew with the cold morning gusts as the sun poked a finger above the horizon. “Are you sure it’s okay, Allison?” Noreen asked. “What will Meeting say?”

  Allison’s jaw tensed. “No time for that. This is a technical problem, and my job for Meeting is to solve technical problems.” She felt ill at ease, nonetheless.

  “What exactly would happen to the SLIT station?”

  “That’s hard to say. Analysis of the satellite failures is not yet complete.”

  “Would it hurt the ship, too?”

  “Well, they’d be cut off from the System core, so…”

  “Fate worse than death,” Noreen observed. “Why don’t they move the station out to Wheelwright-ten?”

  Allison shrugged. “Too long a time lag, they say. The fact is, they’re scared of starting riots all over Terra.”

  The shuttle craft broke through the billowing cumulus clouds. Seth stoically watched it descend.

  “Take Bill along, just in case,” urged Noreen.

  “Is he here?” Allison asked.

  “Any minute, now.”

  “Can’t waste any time; we don’t want to spend antinight in the jungle.” She frowned. “Noreen—you’ve been here all night?”

  “So what?” Noreen spoke brightly enough, but her cheeks sagged under her eyes.

  “It was Bill’s turn.”

  “Well…I guess we got carried away,” she admitted. “Ruth and I are trying to fix up the old Multiform, and around midnight we made a breakthrough on one of the circuits.”

  “That old fossil? Such dedication,” Allison wryly observed. “You think we can’t depend upon System provisions?”

  “The System might not be here tomorrow,” Noreen replied bleakly. “It could vanish as fast as it appeared on Foxfield.”

  The atmosphere was heavy and reeked with dizzying odors. Beyond the clearing lay Coral Vale, a cluster of houses in a valley between hills suffocated by burnt maroon brush.

  “Is that the jungle?” Kyoko asked. Like the Foxfielders, she wore thick trousers and heavy boots.

  Allison shook her head. “Beyond the town.” She pointed toward the horizon, where the hills spilled out into the jungle like a gray sea.

  Seth led them down a dirt road among the houses. Kyoko tripped once; she caught herself and picked up a bleached object under her boot. It was faintly orange and convoluted like Allison’s old paperweight. “That’s coral,” said Allison. “The stuff the ’mensals secrete, an organic ‘cement.’ We’ll be seeing lots more of it, I imagine.”

  Seth swung open the door to a weathered cottage. “Father?” he called. The floorboards creaked as they entered.

  “That you, Seth?” A man appeared in the hallway, his features creased and weathered as the cottage. “Welcome, Friends. Good to see you again, Allison, and—”

  “Kyoko Aseda,” Allison finished.

  “Welcome to Coral Vale,” he said as he shook Kyoko’s hand. “Gabe Connaught’s the name. And where is the off-worlder?”

  “She is, Father,” said Seth.

  Gabe clapped his head. “No frog-skin, like the others, who brought us these?” He indicated his credometer. “I took you for a Foxfielder.”

  “The suit’s underneath.” Kyoko pulled back the flap of her jacket.

  He laughed, and Allison thought that he had aged little within, despite the deepened creases.

  “We’ve seen very few of you space-folk here so far,” he added. “Not that I blame you. It’s a treacherous place here among the hills, and when the rains come from both sides they’ll wash you clean out to the swamp lands. But you’re from Earth…” He touched Kyoko’s sleeve as though not quite sure she was real.

  Seth said, “We have to get started.”

  “Your gear’s all set in the jeep,” Gabe assured him.

  “That suit will have to come off,” Allison told Kyoko.

  “Really?” Kyoko’s face wrinkled briefly. “I suppose you’re right. Is there a room to change?”

  “Thought you citizens didn’t care for privacy,” Seth observed.

  Kyoko looked at him. “Perhaps I’ve spent too much time among primitives.”

  “I’m sure Gabe will show you a room,” said Allison quickly. They would get nowhere at this rate.

  “No problem,” said Gabe. “But first, Friends, I ask for a brief silence. I think we may spare a quarter-hour to insure that you embark on your purpose in the proper spirit of the Light.”

  Seth reddened. Kyoko looked puzzled.

  “A Meeting,” Allison whispered. “Two people and five minutes, anywhere, are enough.”

  The four of them clasped hands in a circle.

  As Allison stood between Seth and Kyoko, she stared at her toes and tried to “center down.” She thought over all the years since she’d last visited this spot, and how they inexorably had led her back here, today. It was a twisted path of years…More than once the thought had come to her that she ought to experience the Dwelling, if only in order to understand Seth better. But she had always been busy, too busy with daily needs. She had always gone to Meeting twice a week; yet surely, if there were a Presence beyond humanity, then commensals held as high a place as humans in the scheme of things. How easy it was for some concerns to slip through the cracks until it might be too late.

  “The Lord be with you, Friends,” called a small voice, from Gabe’s credometer.

  Allison looked up. “What—who—”

  “This is Martha, here with Clifford and Lowell and Anne and Christine…”

  Her knees turned to water.

  “…all of us, all over Foxfield. We all wait with you now, and we pray for your success with the One.”

  The ancient electrojeep plodded through a narrow passage carved into the tangled undergrowth. The headlights shone into the gloom, for little light penetrated the foliage even at midmorning. Branches and hanging creepers loomed for
ward as the vehicle passed. Occasionally a commensal appeared ahead, and then Seth had to halt until the creature had passed or moved aside. Allison wiped her damp face, for the heat and humidity were oppressive. Kyoko took it well, although she must have felt uncomfortable without her suit’s thermostat.

  The ground grew steadily softer and wetter. Wheels whined and splashed mud up to the windows. At length the trail ended before a murky stream.

  Seth switched off the engine. “Leave the wrist-things here,” he said as he stepped out.

  Allison put her credometer on the dashboard.

  “Very well,” said Kyoko, “but how shall we see our way?”

  Seth reached under the seat for the gaslight, fueled by a small pressure tank. He lit it with a flint striker and took it down to the bank of the stream. There was a small rowboat on the bank, and Allison helped him shove it into the water. They all piled into it and with a swish of the oars the boat set off, gliding into the swamp.

  Kyoko let out a cry. Allison turned to see the citizen push aside a crawler as long as her arm with a thousand legs.

  “Ugh.” With an oar handle, Allison flipped it over the edge.

  Kyoko said, “It fell down from nowhere—”

  “Don’t worry,” Seth reassured her. “You’re as toxic to it as it is to you.”

  The boat moved on. The oars splashed now and then.

  Kyoko asked, “Won’t we get lost, without a directional finder?”

  Seth said nothing.

  Allison recalled lines from “The Cry of the Lost Soul,” in her grandmother’s old volume of Whittier.

  Dim burns the boat lamp; shadows deepen round,

  From giant trees with snake-like creepers wound,

  And the black water glides without a sound.

  A pale shape bobbed up before the boat, where the stream narrowed. It was a commensal, floating calmly as her corona phosphoresced. Seth pulled up his oars and contemplated the creature for some minutes.

  “What’s up?” whispered Allison.