Quentin wasn’t sure he’d heard this right. He said, “You can make a living organism, a human being?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Pieces of the organism could be gathered. Some of the pieces are not here, but I could make them. The pieces could be put together to make a living human being that I know of.”
“And you know of Miranda?” Ashley said.
“Yes. And I know of you.”
That made Quentin uneasy. “Exactly how much do you know of us?”
“A unit of knowing is needed.”
Quentin shook his head, not sure how to respond.
“So you could make Miranda come back to life?” Ashley asked.
The thing did not respond.
Ashley shook her hands, aggravated. “Could you make a living human that is Miranda?”
“Yes.”
Ashley’s eyes were now wide, her voice urgent. “Would she have Miranda’s personality and her memories?”
“Yes.”
Ashley turned to them. “Did you hear that?”
Quentin’s mind reeled. Even if the Lamotelokhai could somehow create a living, breathing Miranda, and even if it could somehow give her all of Miranda’s memories, would it really be Miranda? Miranda died. There was no changing that.
Ashley persisted. “Let’s do this. We have to!”
Lindsey raised her hands. “Slow down, Ash. This is creepy beyond words. Even if he could do this, it wouldn’t actually be Miranda.”
Ashley wouldn’t give up. “He just said it would! And what about Miranda’s parents? Don’t you think they would rather have Miranda come home?”
This was a legitimate question. Apparently this was not an option for Addison. But if it were, would Quentin do it? Probably. After a moment he said, “Shouldn’t we let them decide?”
“It might be too late then,” Ashley said. But then she fell silent.
Quentin felt besieged. What effect would the ability to reincarnate the dead have on the world? What other capabilities did this thing have? But for now the questions would have to wait. He said, “We all wish Miranda were alive. But we need to be careful about what we do until we get the Lamotelokhai to people who can comprehend it.”
As if on cue, Samuel entered the hut bearing several woven bags loaded with food and supplies. He stopped short when he saw that the tree was bare. His eyes darted about the hut and then fell upon the replica of Addison. He dropped the bags to the floor. “God blind me!”
“It’s the Lamotelokhai,” Bobby said.
Samuel stared at the figure as if it were a ghost. “What manner of malice is this?”
Bobby explained as Samuel glanced back and forth from the bare tree to the transformed Lamotelokhai. He approached the figure and prodded it.
It responded by speaking to him. “You are Samuel.”
Samuel stumbled back a step. He turned to the villagers, who chattered at him, obviously enthusiastic about the situation. “Extraordinary,” Samuel muttered.
Bobby suggested he ask it a question.
Samuel cleared his throat and hesitated. Finally he spoke. “The prospect of speaking to the subject of so many years of study is quite beyond my command. It has long been my purpose to better communicate with you. And now that the opportunity is upon me, I fear I am without words.” Samuel forced a smile, but it faded as the Lamotelokhai stared back without expression.
“Do you hear me?” Samuel asked.
“Yes.”
“And all the years that I studied you, did you hear me then?”
“Yes.”
“Could you not have transformed yourself in order to speak, as you now have?”
“I was not asked before to transform myself.”
“I had only to ask?” Samuel seemed to say this to himself as much as to the figure.
“Yes.”
Samuel sputtered a pitiful guffaw. It was the closest thing to laughter that Quentin had ever heard from him. “Confoundingly extraordinary,” he said.
Preparations for leaving were brief. They had no belongings other than their ragged bits of clothing and the bags of food. When they descended to the forest floor, several of the remaining Papuan men joined them. There was no sign of the women. The men hovered near the Lamotelokhai, still speaking and gesturing to it. Samuel was planning to leave the village with Quentin’s group, and he stood to the side, patiently waiting.
As the Lamotelokhai talked to the Papuans, Quentin was still transfixed by the thing’s resemblance to Addison, from the cracking adolescent voice to the navel shaped like a crescent moon above the woven loincloth Samuel had provided. Disquieted by the immediacy of their departure, Quentin spoke to it. “I would like to know the distance of Addison.”
The figure turned to him. “I do not know the distance of Addison.”
A lump swelled in Quentin’s throat. “What does that mean? Is he dead?”
For the first time, the figure’s face changed. Although barely discernable, it seemed to soften. It’s learning from watching us, Quentin thought.
“Information comes to me when the distance of Addison is little. If Addison dies when information comes to me, the information tells me Addison dies. The information did not tell me this. The information stopped coming. The distance of Addison is great. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Quentin said. Its conversation is getting better too.
Quentin turned away, uncomfortable with the thing looking directly at him. He considered this news about Addison. He’d expected the last moments before leaving this place would produce second-guessing. But he’d been through it all a hundred times in the night, and had grown weary of useless analysis. Now Addison was too far away for the Lamotelokhai to sense him, and this made things easier.
Quentin turned to Lindsey. She had heard the Lamotelokhai’s words and appeared to be barely suppressing tears. Quentin chose to say nothing about it. “We should go,” he said.
Lindsey wiped one eye with her palm, and then she nodded slightly.
It was time.
With Sinanie guiding them, it took only a few hours to reach the same rusty-brown river where Quentin had washed the blood from his ankle days before. Brilliant sunlight filled the gap in the canopy where the river flowed. Quentin’s eyes were long adjusted to shadow, and the river was like a tunnel of luminescence cut through the forest’s gloom.
“Méanmaél,” Sinanie said, pointing to the river. Samuel explained that this meant ‘the world sea,’ which was a body of water leading to the end of the world.
They stopped at the path flanking the river. The plan was to follow the river downstream until they encountered another village. According to Samuel, this could take at least three days of walking, made difficult by treacherously muddy slopes.
But everyone seemed strong, even Bobby, who still had not slept. Among them there were no wounds, no disease, and no insect bites. The flies kept their distance, hanging in clouds above as if an invisible barrier held them at bay. In spite of the stifling heat, Quentin felt relatively cool. He began to let himself believe they could make it to civilization.
Sinanie told them, through Samuel, that he would leave them here at the river’s edge. He then spoke one last time to the Lamotelokhai. “Lamol mano-mano-po-dakhu-fekho.” 46
The Lamotelokhai gazed at him without responding. Quentin shot a glance at Samuel, but Samuel didn’t offer to translate.
Despite the devastating blow that had been dealt to his tribe, Sinanie seemed to be at peace. After learning that the Lamotelokhai could reincarnate living people, Bobby had suggested that it bring back the villagers Addison had slaughtered. But the Papuans refused this, claiming that such an act would defy the obligatory fate of their companions.
Sinanie turned to Quentin and said, “Nggulun, nun e khelép-té. Wolakholol be-lembu-té-n-da.” He then spoke to Lindsey, Carlos, and Ashley—a different phrase for each of them. When he faced Bobby, he said, “Khofé mano-pelu-m-é-o. Ge im
o lalé. Lamol mano-mano-po-dakhu-fekho.” As he spoke, Sinanie pointed to Bobby’s eyes and then indicated the entire world with a sweep of his hand. Quentin sensed that Bobby was being told what he should do with his ability to see.47
And finally Sinanie spoke to Samuel, slowly and deliberately. “Samuel. Go now. Remember.” Sinanie then put his hand on his own chest. “We remember Samuel.”
Samuel straightened his shoulders. “Yes, I will remember. Nggé, nu lenggile-lé-dakhu. Nu gelilfo.”48
“Gekhené ané kha-mén-é,” Sinanie replied. And then he turned back toward his hanging village. They watched after him as he disappeared into the foliage and shadows.49
Samuel shook his head. “I fear the fate of the indigenes is uncertain.” He eyed the Lamotelokhai. “We are taking that which has shaped their existence for centuries.”
The thing stared blankly at Samuel.
“And now,” Samuel said, “I wonder what will become of civilized men.”
The Lamotelokhai spoke. “Samuel, you are afraid. Why?”
Before Samuel could answer, Lindsey said, “I’ll tell you why he’s afraid. Because we don’t know what you are. We don’t know your intentions.”
The figure tried to smile, perhaps for the first time. “I have no intentions. I am a gift.”
“A gift from who?” Lindsey asked.
“From those who created me.”
“Who are they?” Lindsey said. “What do they want?”
“It is likely they are dead. They do not want.”
After a moment of silence, Quentin asked, “A gift of what?”
The figure smiled again. This time it was a confident, warm smile. “A gift of what they knew.”
“Do you have any intentions of hurting us?” Lindsey asked.
“I have no intentions,” it repeated.
“My fear,” Quentin said, “is that you might be used badly, perhaps to do harm. And you could change our civilization. Some people won’t like that.”
Suddenly Bobby spoke up. “Diffusion. You taught us about that, Mr. Darnell. You’re afraid of cultural diffusion.”
Quentin frowned. He hadn’t thought of it quite that way.
Bobby addressed the Lamotelokhai. “Diffusion is what happens when different types of people meet and change each other. The Papuans changed when other people came here. It just happens.”
“Yes,” the Addison replica said. “I was created to share what my creators knew. It is likely this will change you.”
Quentin considered this. Bobby had come to his conclusion about diffusion because he had accepted from the start that this thing was an alien intelligence—something bigger than the human species. Nearly all his life, Quentin’s views had been forged by the tragedy following his parents’ careless actions. And that was a mistake made on such a very small scale.
A shadowy dread that had been lurking in the back of Quentin’s mind began to expand.
Samuel adjusted the bag of food that hung from his shoulder. “Since there is little will among us to prevent this diffusion, may I suggest we continue our journey?”
The seven figures made their way along the river. Eventually conversations stopped, and the only distraction was occasional rustling above them as three tree kangaroos moved through the canopy, keeping pace.
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Papuan Language Guide
First, I must say that I have the deepest respect for the unique cultures of the Papuan peoples. Obviously I have taken liberties with developing the characteristics of Sinanie’s tribe, but I intended no disrespect by doing so.
I adapted this language from the amazing work of Gerrit J. van Enk and Lourens de Vries in their studies of the language and culture of the Korowai, a Papuan community of treehouse dwellers of southern Irian Jaya (now called Papua). Astoundingly, the Korowai had never come into contact with outsiders until the early 1980s. Each word or phrase is referenced by number in the text of the novel.
Méanmaél (the world-sea, a body of water leading to the end of the world)
Kembalimo (This is the name of the online problem-solving language game that Bobby and Addison play. It also means to return in the language of Sinanie’s tribe.)
Gu mbakha-to-fosu le-bo? Mba-mbam? (Where have you come from? Children?) Walukh, khomilo? (Sick, dead?)
Yu le khomilo-mbo. Khomilo. (He begins to die. Dead.)
Gu mbakha-to-fosu le-bo? (Where have you come from?)
Nu pesau im-le. Pesua. (I saw the plane. Plane.) Friend, gu spirit lai-ati-bo-dakhu. Lele-mbol-e-kho-lo? Laleo? Spirit. (Friend, are you coming as a spirit? How are you coming?)
Mbakha lekhen, Jesus? Laleo khop. (What reason—why Jesus? Bad spirit there.)
Gu laleo-lu de-te-dakhu, Jesus. (You are a spirit for sure, Jesus.)
Gu mbakha-lekhe wa-mol-mo, dodepa-le Lindsey? Lindsey gekhene mbakha mo-mba-te? (Why do you do that, call Lindsey? Lindsey what are you doing?)
Yu Khentelo! Yu beben! (He angry! He strong!)
Yu khentelo tekhen. Khedi belen. Khedi belen. (He angry for a reason. Do not kill. Do not kill.)
Ané kha-fen. (Let us go.) Ané lai-m! (You must come!)
I mbakha? Yu le khomilo-mbo. Ané lai-m. (What is this? He begins to die. You must come.)
Laléo-khén! Laléo! (Angry spirit! Spirit!)
Fano! Mbolop manop. (No! The tree kangaroo is good.)
I mbakha? (What is this?)
Soyabu (local word for the dorcopsis wallaby used for food)
Kembakhi live in the lepun melun. (Aggressive ants live in the leaf stem gall bladder.)
Anggufa diabo? (Why – to know? Or: How can you know this?)
Nu khomile-lé-dakhu khosü kha-lé. But I’m better now. Khi-telo. (I died and went there – to the place of the dead. But I’m better now. Healthy-be.)
Khosükhop, khaim. (There, tree house.)
Yebun (rope ladder)
Hey n-até-o. (Greetings, my father – a term of respect from a young Papuan to an unrelated man)
Gu laléo-lu. (You bad spirit)
Senggile-lé. (Be frightened) Yanop khomile-lé-dakhu (People will die. Or: I will kill them)
Gekhené pesua im-le (You saw the plane.)
Nu lefaf! Yu be-khomilo-n-din-da. Ya nokhu wola-maman-é. Nokhu solditai imoné khomilo. (I am finished! He cannot die. Yes, as for us, the end of the world is there. We begin to die now.)
Noadi, gu mbakha-lekhé wa-mol-mo? (Noadi, why do you do this?)
Nu if-e-kha misafi gup-tekhé fédo-p. Nokhu-yanop-tu (I want to give these things to you. It is our people.)
Nokhu-yanop-tu. Wolakholol lembu-té-n-da (It is our people. The world will get out of order.) Yu nggulun. Yu manop. Gu di mbolombolop (He is a teacher. He is good. You tell our ancestors.)
Maf lebil lefu-manda (Picture tooth no more. Or: This is the last picture tooth.)
Ané kha-fén! Nokhu ima-fon khüp Lamotelokhai! (Let us go! We wish to see the Lamotelokhai!)
Nu khén-telo! Gekhené pesua im-le! (I am becoming angry! You saw the plane!)
Mbakha-leké mbolop? (Why are you with the mbolop? Or: What reason the mbolop?)
Yu nggulun! (He is a teacher! Or: He is a communicator!)
Khofé mbakha mo-mba-té? (Youngster, what are you doing?)
Walukh, Joamba. (Sick, Joamba.)
Nu be-khomilo-n-din-da. Nu khén-telo! (It is impossible for me to die. I am becoming angry!)
Gekhené khup lefu. Gekhené wola-maman-é. (Your time has ended. Your universe is now out of o
rder. Or: Your world is ended.)
It has your keliokhmo. (It has gathered together knowledge of you.) You did not like the khofémanop, Addison. (You did not like the boy (son), Addison.)
Ya nokhu wola-maman-é. Nokhu solditai imoné khomilo. (Yes, as for us, the end of the world is there. We begin to die now.)
Yu khokhukh-telo-dakhu dialun. (He is strong and clever.)
I le-ba-lé ye-mén! (Come here, to this side!)
Gu nu u-ngga-lekhén-ma-té. (You want to kill me.)
Manda-é. Yu lé khomilo-mbo iMoné. (No. He is going to die now.)
Lamol mano-mano-po-dakhu-fekho. (Set the world right. Or: Make the world good.)
Nggulun, nun e khelép-té. Wolakholol be-lembu-té-n-da. (Teacher, it is clear to me. The world will not get out of order.) Khofé mano-pelu-m-é-o. Ge imo lalé. Lamol mano-mano-po-dakhu-fekho. (Boy, grow well. You see greatest. Make the world good.)
Nggé, nu lenggile-lé-dakhu. Nu gelilfo. (Friend, I am frightened. I am going away.)
Gekhené ané kha-mén-é. (You can now go home.)
Nggé, gu mbakha-to-fosü le-bo? (Friend, Where have you come from?)
Research Sources
I am thankful for the hard work of those who have painstakingly researched the cultures, wildlife, and ecosystems of Papua. The following are recommended books (and one video).
Flannery, Tim. Mammals of New Guinea. Chatswood, New South Wales: Reed Books Australia, 1995. Print.
Flannery, Tim. Throwim Way Leg: Tree Kangaroos, Possums, and Penis Gourds – On the Track of Unknown Mammals in Wildest New Guinea. New York: Atlantic Monthly Press, 1998. Print.
Marriott, Edward. The Lost Tribe – A Harrowing Passage into New Guinea’s Heart of Darkness. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1996. Print.
Merrifield, William, Gregerson, Marilyn, and Ajamiseba, Daniel, Ed. Gods, Heroes, Kinsmen: Ethnographic Studies from Irian Jaya, Indonesia. Jayapura, Irian Jaya: Cenderawasih University, 1983. Print.
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