No warning. The craft abruptly lurched. Unprepared, I stabbed out with stretched fingers, in an attempt to capture the handrail. Again, the ship heaved, shoving the handrail to me; but missing my hands. I was launched. I flew over the reef and into a deep trough of the open sea. Alex would more than likely have laughed at Joud's clumsy touch on the lift controls; if he hadn't seen me hurled from the ship.
The soft glow of the globe light barely bent back the blackness of night. Joud listened to the crackle of burning skin on fish. The music drifting by to beleaguer them with the better moods of their neighbors. Having finally agreed, to abandon the search for the overboard bot; Joud and Alex had likewise abandoned discussion of the disaster. Yet, they couldn’t remain mute forever. His eyes placed on the hard won fish, Joud set forth their most immediate concern.
“We can't set out past the reef with less than three aboard,” he said.
“I know!” Alex snapped, expressing the raw nerve of his own thoughts. Not another word did they share until the fish called for action. Alex removed it from the spit and divided it onto plates.
Receiving his portion, Joud insisted, “Either we enlist a seasteader we can trust; or we get ourselves another bot.”
Primarily to himself, Alex contended, “What we really need is a bot that can swim.”
CHAPTER 27
I could not swim. My storage cells filling with water, accelerated my descent. I watched the reef slipping past, a mere meter out of reach. The reef was a remarkable sight. It was a vibrant and delicate entwining of living coral and other symbiotic residents. The complexity was captivating. Each organism filled a niche. I filled a niche. Though, I was likely plummeting to the end of my own contribution.
Falling, I left the light behind. Soon I was falling through darkness more absolute than any I had previously known. My sensors told me the ambient pressure was rapidly rising. Not built to withstand the increased pressure that came with depth, I was on course to implode somewhere in the vicinity of 550 fathoms.
My feet struck a protuberance, causing me to pitch forward and land on hands and knees. Recalibrating my status, I hypothesized I’d landed on a scant bump of coral. I stayed put in this toppled position. While I inventoried my options, Ziggy came to mind. So I wondered, is this the randomness of luck? Was this destiny? I saw no way to determine an answer. Whether luck or destiny that had halted my descent, of only one thing was I certain. Only I could determine my next course of action.
The knob of coral was a precarious perch. Through the absolute darkness, I could not see the reef; but I could hear it, and feel that it was directly in front of me. Running a calculation, I determined my location as approximately 330 fathoms below the surface. On just the opposite side of this reef lay the Bay of Dreams. If I climbed up the reef and crossed over the top, I could drop or climb down into the bay. If I could make it into the bay, I could walk across the relatively shallow bottom without risk of implosion. I listened to the hum of the coral. If I chose to climb this living ladder, I would probably injure and possibly kill organisms, all the way up.
The Cardinal Command froze me to uncertainty. I must treat every sapient with respect. Was the coral sapient? I’d never been called upon to determine sapience before. I looked to my definitions.
Sapience is wisdom, the directive supplied.
Wisdom is knowledge; wisdom is insight; wisdom is judgment.
Sapience is sagacity, the directive supplied.
Sagacity is perception; sagacity is discernment; sagacity is the capacity to comprehend the obscure.
Experiencing the vibration of the reef, I understood only that the line between sapient and non-sapient remained an enduring mystery. I looked back to my experiences on Earth. I remembered plucking the pads from the prickly pear plants. Innocently, I had presumed that Ziggy would never instruct me to damage a sapient life. Was this reef more like a plant, or more like an animal? My inability to communicate, with the delicate creatures of the reef, severely impeded my ability to determine an answer. Yet, there was no one to ask. Compelled to derive my own decision, I listed my options.
I could wait for rescue.
I could continue my fall.
I could climb the reef.
Using deliberation and caution, I crawled the short distance to the face of the reef. Gently touching it for a balance point, I stood. The wall pulsed and sizzled. “I need your help,” I said, in case the wall could understand. No response that I could discern was forthcoming. “I beg your forgiveness,” I said. Precariously poised on the sloping shelf, I cautiously lifted a foot and swung it forward from my knee. With a squish followed by a crunch, the reef swallowed my foot. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Thank you,” I added while reaching up as high as I could with one hand. Crushing that hand forward, I entered the wall midway to my elbow; thus gaining a solid purchase. “Thank you,” I repeated.
I began to ascend. My long climb to the surface was a mantra of thanks. I might never know if I was making the proper choice. And just in case their abilities were greater than my own, I was determined to offer recognition for the gift the wall was affording me. Void of the ability to recognize consent, this was my best approximation at offering respect.
I’d probably traveled about half the distance across the bottom of the bay; although my wavering route made it difficult to measure. Inside my watery shroud, dark accumulated quickly that night, obscuring my target. I decided to stop walking to wait out the dark. I would have passed the night completely blind, if not for the blue curl of luminescence, overhead. While I engaged in meditative wanderings of the mind, I kept a particle of awareness on the impact of the oscillating rhythm of the water; as the sweep of the water slowly…inexorably…buried my feet with sand. Measuring the weight, I periodically lifted first one foot then the other free of the accumulation. In that way, at the pace of a snail, I continued to make forward progress through the duration of the night. Come the light of morning, I had accrued an additional hundred meditative meters of forward travel.
At first light, I’d scarcely begun to navigate in earnest toward the shore when a shimmering storm of pink and green fish engulfed me. The slicing speed of the darting creatures caused me to sway capriciously. Attempting to hold myself stable, I set my legs wide until the school disappeared into the viscid view. In the underwater world, I admired with which the indigenous population could float. Evidently floating was for them an automatic, even irresistible ability; whereas I was made irredeemably clumsy by the constantly shifting forces.
At stepping from the reef the previous day to land on the floor of the bay, I’d been immediately confronted by instability and my inability to solidly stand. To remedy the problem, I added the necessary ballast, placing chunks of dead coral into my leg compartments. I added and subtracted material to my various compartments until I was able to plant my feet firmly without sinking too deeply. Stepping away from the shelter of the reef, I had to focus to walk effectively. It was no easy lesson to learn how far forward to lean, and how much force to exert since the pulse of the sea surged incongruous to my tiny steps. Eventually, I contrived a characteristic pattern of movement that bore some resemblance to a drunken Alex.
My encounters with sudden clouds of fish began to diminish as early morning passed into midday. I was maneuvering with an ever evolving efficiency. Alas, with no discernible warning, I was ungraciously lifted from my feet by an undeniable force. Captive to an undersea current, I finally discovered buoyancy; along with the threat of being delivered to an unknown destination. Dragged at a speed that was both daunting and marvelous, I flailed to no avail. When inexplicably the flow dropped me, I tumbled to a chaotic landing.
The first thing I did was to crawl, as an effort to remove myself from the vicinity of the invisible river. Once reasonably separated from danger, I became still. Over and over, I replayed from memory, the critical moments before I was swept from my feet. Unaccountably, there seemed no viable clues offering advanced warning that I might be to
rn away from my choice of direction.
Searching for an alternate strategy, I next replayed the final moments before the current had ultimately released me from its unsolicited grip. I searched for specific actions that might have initiated my fortuitous fall. But even with parsing down to a jot, I was unable to determine how to induce ejection from a rushing flow.
Sans insight, I reoriented, and recommenced my journey; never completely abandoning my search for a solution. My second encounter, with a swiftly moving current, was indeed forecast by a glimmer of déjà vue. But to no avail, as once again, I was stolen.
CHAPTER 28
Joud and Alex agreed to retrofit me with a maritime body. This decision was made shortly after my astonishing reappearance as a worse-for-wear bot. Looking like a corpse, I showed up late one day to the h-liner. On the spot, they decided to send me to a neighboring colony of medical satellites, for an intensive makeover.
Not surprisingly, there was an entire cluster of orbiting satellites that specialized in re-fabrication of humans, humanoids and nearly-humanoids for improved functionality in water. Today I was returning from a customized makeover. Stepping free of the sloping cargo mover deep inside the warehouse, I passed through the various bands of lasers, tasked with tracking the movements of cargo items. Through the cavernous room, I moved displaying a new grace. The new body formed out of ionic polymer muscle promised to efficiently propel me through any sea to inconceivable depths. When I stepped into the lobby, Alex was the first to catch sight of me, recognizing my tawny face, golden eyes and rusty curls, now perched on a spectacular new body.
Alex pointed with his thumb, “Look at Mr. Sea-Creature.”
Joud was clearly smitten at the sight of me. My body was luminous gray with dark tourmaline green shoulders. A margin of retractable dorsal fringe drew a curlicue plumage down the center of my back and the backs of both legs. These were also tourmaline green.
Joud called excitedly to me, “Chance, you look like a native Varunian!”
Later that day we went for an inaugural swim. I stood on the ski next to Joud, who was seated with his calves mostly buried in water.
“Here I go!” he said, falling back.
I waited a few beats before springing. Keeping my arms close along the length of my body, I flew an arc through the air, allowing enough time for my fringe to unfurl from their flutes. Forehead leading, I penetrated the waters of Varun. Remade for this purpose, all the muscles of my body fell into synch. Deftly, I sliced a giant arc; gracefully gliding up to Joud. Looking at him, I saw a new expression. One I could not readily identify. We hung in silence for some moments with eyes on each other, until I finally took the initiative by requesting a comm-link. When he tapped consent, I spoke. “Are you alright, Joud?”
Flustered he said, “I’m feeling a bit…um…I don’t know…. It’s just that….” Caressing the stock of his spear gun, Joud said, “Chance, maybe you should be the hunter. I’ll never be as quick as you.”
My mind recoiled from his suggestion. In that instant, I incorporated a deeper comprehension of my calling as defined by the Cardinal Command. To claim respect for one sapient by denying respect to a different sapient was unacceptable for me. As if I had suddenly gained an extrasensory perception, I awakened inside myself. I said a word that until this moment I would’ve considered out of bounds for me. “No,” I said with steel in my voice, “I will not hunt for you.” Then more tenderly, I explained, “Joud, I’m not wise enough to kill.”
My words appeared to shock him into silence. He scrutinized me. When he spoke, he poked at my words. “Not…wise enough…to kill. I don’t understand. Surely, you can use a spear gun even better than I.”
“I must treat each sapient with respect, for this is the Cardinal Command. Before I came to Varun, Joud, I was never called on to determine sapience. Hanging on the wrong side of the reef, I realized my nearly crippling inability to discern. Perhaps, Joud…perhaps, it is possible to kill respectfully. But if so, it is clearly beyond my own ability. I cannot hunt for you.”
“Oh. I didn’t mean to cause an ethical dilemma, Chance. It’s no big deal. Alex and I planned to do the fishing anyway.” His expression transformed from one of confusion to one of affection. “And anyway,” he said, “I brought you down today to see how you do in the water.” Grinning, he told me, “I am sufficiently impressed.”
Biological life was so fragile. I used the tongs to turn the fish steaks. Placing the steaks on a serving platter, I considered the startling enigma of flesh eating flesh. Because food came in sterile packages on earth, I had never been confronted by the reality that biological life is nurtured and fed by death. Perhaps the particular destiny of biology was to contend with the challenge of developing an appropriate balance when simultaneously preserving and destroying life.
Ferrying the food to the table, I heard the familiar melody of Alex and Joud laughing. When I set the platter on the table Joud sat up straighter. “Yum!” Joud exclaimed, “That smells fantastic.”
In a flash of forks, the men stabbed at chunks of flesh. I went back to my station to retrieve more platters. When I set them on the table, there was another flash of implements. Each of them dished up a generous portion. After taking a sip of brew, Alex cut another bite of the pink tissue on his plate.
Speaking and chewing, he declared, “Chance-bot, you are a talented cook.”
“Alex,” Joud pestered, “tell Chance what you were saying.”
“There once was a maiden from Sukkett--” Alex began.
Flushing red, Joud said, “Alex! Not that! Tell the bot about the idea!”
Alex laughed. “What?” he asked Joud, “You don't think it'll get the joke? Ah, well. You're probably right.” Addressing me, Alex said, “We’ve been discussing, how best to use you, now that you can swim.” Sawing his fish he claimed another chunk of flesh. Waving the meat at me, he explained, “Joud’s right, we don’t need to turn you into a killer bot.” Alex winked at me and with a nod continued, “We’d like to see more of what’s down below. We want you to take nightly swims. And of course we expect you to film your forays.”
CHAPTER 29
“Spheres,” Carla said dismally.
Wearing a strained smile, Pancho objected, “You know, I spent all week getting these to grow evenly. Did you come by just to rain on my parade?”
Carla stepped over the threshold. The portal closed behind her. Seeking to appease, she said, “I’m sorry, Pancho. I’m disappointed, that’s all.” Circling the tubular saltwater tank, she examined the contents. “You’re a genius,” she said, “They’re perfect.”
“Mm,” he answered noncommittally. Turning back to his work, he scrolled through the columns of data displayed on the surface of the tank. After a few minutes, Pancho noticed Carla had not moved and asked, “Is there something else I can help you with?”
“So, is that the only shape Danel has you working on?” she asked.
Pancho’s posture collapsed into an annoyed slouch. “You did,” he accused, “You came by to rain on my parade.”
Attempting to smile, Carla grimaced instead. “I’m sorry. I’ll get out of your hair,” she said. “I was on my way to dinner; and I wanted to stop by and see what you were working on.”
Pancho turned back to his work.
“Okay, okay, I get the hint. See you later.”
Carla’s mind spun round in circles of frustration as she meandered through the building to the ground floor. When she stepped outside the thick air pulled her back into the world. The garden around the Poseidon was a counterfeit jungle created with plants imported from Earth. But after all, there was not a single native plant on the island. Walking the promenade, Carla enjoyed walking past the thick shiny leaves, so succulent compared to the desert plants at home. Leaving behind the garden canopy, she turned up the street. The first house she came to, there was an assistant-bot working in the garden. The bizarre sight of high level bots performing menial labor continued to shock her. On Ear
th menial labor was undertaken by specialized machines with minimal intelligence.
Curious, Carla paused to watch the bot. It was twisting the suckers from a pineapple plant and sticking them into the ground nearby. Pineapples and sweet potatoes constituted two of the most common plants on Kamarong, having been widely propagated since the earliest days of the settlement program. While Carla was watching the bot, a woman came out to join it. After waving hello to Carla, the woman took over the task of planting the suckers, leaving the bot to focus on the harder task of twisting the suckers from the ground. Embarrassed to catch a human in the act of performing labor, Carla hurried away.
The Double Moon Cafe was close by; and everyone in her group was a regular there. When she stepped inside, the cool air was like a silken garment. “Ah-h,” she sighed. She scanned the room, but Joud saw her first.
“I hope you’re hungry, Carla,” he called out. Crossing the room with a prideful swagger, he announced, “Two-stripe fillets!”
Not understanding, Carla tilted her head. “Two-stripe?” she asked.
Beaming Joud showed her his hands. “I caught them with my own two hands,” he bragged, “You won't find anything like them inside the reef. They’re from West-ridge.”
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