Watchstar

by Pamela Sargent

  She wrinkled her brows. “You live so long?”

  “Longer if we wish, though accidents kill many of us in time. But that is not my point.” Reiho frowned. “We have had our troubles. I have told you there are other comet worlds. Once we were one world, but we have become divided. If someone is dissatisfied here, she may create a new world with others, leave us. Sometimes it is only a certain style which divides us, sometimes it is something more serious.”

  “We live in separate villages on Earth,” Daiya said, “but we're not divided. Our customs are the same.”

  “Earth is small,” Reiho replied. “If you were to travel to another village, you would think of the journey in terms of days or at most months, would you not? We must think of years, hundreds of years, thousands if we could not control our speed and our path. Often when we meet another comet, and that does not happen frequently, we find that the divisions are so deep that we cannot share and communicate any more. We do not fight, because there is nothing to be gained from it, but we are aliens to one another. I have seen a world where the people are concerned only with art and the creation of beauty. Etey has seen a world where the people had shed their bodies and united their minds with that of a cybernetic intelligence. She has also seen a world where she was not quite sure what it was the people valued.” He paused. “I am not saying we would want to be like you, I do not think we could. Your life is too hard. But if we understood your perspective, we could learn something from it, I am certain. We are individuals, and must go our own ways, but sharing adds something to each of us. Too often we are divided here. We do not have to cooperate on many things because Homesmind is here and takes care of us. Few of us become parents to those who are born because to do that requires that an individual feel more of a bond with others than she usually does. The only thing we can all accept is that it is important to learn, find out what we can, but too many of us are only spectators, self-absorbed, gazing at what is known without discovering much that is new, unable to act or decide much more than what to wear or what to eat or who to mate with for a time. Only knowledge unites us. That is what we value most.”

  She thought about his words. He spoke of knowledge as if it were only words or legends without substance. On Earth, truth could shame one, an idea could maim if it was thrown about carelessly. He was a solitary; he could play with ideas as if they were toys. She peered at him. Even his people, who supposedly valued knowledge so much, had lost the ability to build machines like those on her world; even they were afraid of some knowledge.

  “You see, you have nothing to fear from us.” Reiho went on, his mouth curving in a half-smile. “Most of us would rather view the vistas of Earth through Homesmind than walk there ourselves. I would not even go there as I am, though I might be safe enough. I must wear a lifesuit for protection. Most of us would not want to confront your people. We have a great fear of confrontation, and have many forms of courtesy devised to avoid it. One would not even want to criticize another's choice of wine or clothing, though our thoughts are our own. So we grow apart even more, since we rarely bring our disputes into the open until someone simply decides to leave and seed a new comet and by then it is too late.”

  “But you say you can speak directly to this Homesmind,” she said, “and to one another through those things, those implants. At least I think that's what you meant.”

  “That is true. But Homesmind will only advise, It will not tell us what to do. And we usually do not speak to others directly, though we do when we wish to exchange knowledge or our reasoning about some subject, since that is much quicker and more accurate than speaking. But much of the time we use speech.”

  “But then why can't you become closer? I don't see how people can be so divided if you can somehow touch another's mind.”

  Reiho shrugged. “We have certain inhibitions, made stronger by tradition. We value privacy, the uniqueness of each person, the freedom to think a thought without having to share it with everyone else. We can speak into another's mind, but we cannot search it, or know another's thoughts as we know our own.”

  “Now I am sure I can't stay here.” Daiya said. “Everything you have said now we think is a sin. Everyone in my village warned me about my separateness, it was a great flaw in me. Perhaps it's because of that blot on my character that I can listen to you and understand something of what you say, but I cannot live in such a place. I could not endure it. I have no powers here, I can't even get a sense of this place, can't feel things you feel only with your mind. You would clutter my body with more of these calming things, and it would not matter because I would only wait for death. I am completely unlike you.”

  He took her hand again. She thought of his artificial skin and tried not to recoil and wondered how it could feel so much like real skin. She poked impulsively at the back of his hand with her nail and he jerked his head slightly.

  “You are more like me, and like Etey, than you think,” he answered. “In a way, we are as much outsiders here as you are in your home. Of course, we cannot really be outsiders, since everyone here is free to go her own way, but we question many things about life here, just as you questioned your life on Earth.”

  She realized that if Reiho had not been so different, he might have been a friend. But there was too much that divided them. He was still an alien curiosity, an acquaintance, someone she would never really understand. It was a wonder she could grasp as much of him as she did.

  “Tell me,” she said, speaking carefully, longing for the lost powers that would have made some of this cumbersome talk unnecessary. “Is it because you and Etey are different from others here that you are now having disagreements?”

  Reiho seemed surprised. “We are not really having a disagreement.” His voice slid over the words.

  “Don't try to fool me. I heard you before I slept, and I saw how your bodies moved today as you spoke to those others, the people who were staring at pictures. You moved as though you were afraid to touch each other.”

  “It is not serious.”

  “It is. I have come between you.”

  “No, you have not. It is only that Etey wonders if I was wise to bring you here, but I explained things to her, and she understands that I could not leave you behind.”

  “She wants me to leave.”

  Reiho's eyes shifted slightly. “She did at first. Now she is not so certain. She feels sorry for you.”

  Daiya straightened her shoulders. “She does not have to feel sorry for me.” She stood up. “You say I should speak to this Homesmind of yours. Is that your request, or is it Etey's?”

  He rose and faced her. “We are both in agreement on that. Homesmind is the wisest being here.”

  “You have said you created It, yet It is wiser than you. You speak in paradoxes.”

  She turned and walked through the forest. Reiho followed her and took her arm and she did not draw away. Light danced in the spaces among the trees, making her blink. They came to the edge of the forest.

  They stood together on a low hill and gazed at a plain of gray rocks. In the distance, three small boats were sailing on the clear, calm waters of a lake. A breeze curved the sails and rippled the lake's surface, making the light dance and sparkle again. The curls against her cheek fluttered. She looked up at the golden sky and wondered if she could ever love this world as she loved Earth.

  She leaned against Reiho, who had tried to be her friend. For a few moments, she forgot that his body was not all flesh and bone. The breeze brushed her face once more, and she heard Reiho breathe.

  Three birds darted from the woods behind them and flew out over the lake. She withdrew from Reiho and turned to face him. He watched her quietly and then said, “Will you commune with Homesmind?”

  She said, “Yes, I will.”

  Daiya sat in the corner of a large room on a blue cushion. The roof above her was transparent. She leaned against a wall. Images moved through the center of the room; they looked more like diagrams or drawings than real thin
gs. The room's grassy ground was covered by cushions. Pictures danced on the walls, pictures of forests and landscapes through which rabbits and deer jumped and ran. A speckled fawn near her corner blinked at her; she put out her hand and touched the wall, her hand concealing its nose. Tree limbs bent slightly, as if a breeze was stirring them.

  Five children giggled as the lines in the middle of the room twisted and curved; squares turned into rectangles, circles became globes. The children stared at Daiya and giggled some more. Etey was speaking to a tall man who stood near the children. The man nodded. Etey came back across the room, walking through the images.

  Reiho sat next to Daiya. He smiled at her reassuringly Etey sat down across from her, holding out a thin silver circlet. Reiho pressed a hand against the wall. A transparent surface slid across the room, dividing them from the children on the other side; then it darkened so that she could no longer see through it.

  She took the circlet from Etey. “You must use this,” the woman said. “It is a trainer for children, they must learn to use this before they are ready for an implant. I do not think you will find it too difficult. I shall be with you, so I can guide you if necessary. You will have to concentrate.”

  Daiya nodded.

  “Put it around your head.”

  She lifted the circlet and put it on; it slid down and rested against her forehead and temples. Suddenly the room was gone. A fog enveloped her. She felt a presence near her—Etey. But there was another presence, another mind. She trembled as she sensed its power.

  It touched her. She was outside the comet, adrift in black space. The comet was a seed sprouting stems. She gazed through the impossibly long limbs of the trees that grew from it. She saw through the roots into the comet-world; there was a city in each root, hidden or disguised by the jungle that grew around it. She felt as though she could grasp all the visions at once. She was in space again. A membrane shimmered around the comet, protecting it, almost invisible. Homesmind was touching her.

  The comet was Homesmind; Homesmind was the comet. Daiya thought: nothing can be this powerful, nothing can know this much. She saw another image; other comets circled the sun, their minds communing. They linked themselves together with mental strands. Their people had grown apart, but the comet minds still communicated and held their knowledge for whomever was willing to seek it.

  She was being propelled through space. The sun grew smaller, becoming a pinprick against the night. She understood that she was far from Earth now, in a region of large rocks, small barren worldlets, and the masses of ice that became comets; she was in the place Reiho had called the Halo. She was lifted above it. Looking down, she saw tiny globes, far from one another, orbiting the sun. The Halo was a mass of fragments marking the boundary between this system and the space outside it. She saw one comet, then another, leave the Halo and begin to move slowly in the direction of the sun.

  How many comets? she felt herself asking. How many worlds? Comets were fanning out from her; their tails veiled her eyes. She saw each depart on its own path, some choosing to stay within this system, others leaving for other stars. Thousands of them. Millions. She could not hold the numbers. She felt heavy with the knowledge, remembering Earth. She had thought it the home of all human life. Even one comet contained more people than did Earth.

  She was caught in the fog again. Homesmind reached inside her. She unraveled like a skein of thread: she was stretching out her chubby arms to Anra as she toddled, she was sitting in the public space shifting her weight from one buttock to another as she tried to concentrate on mastering her thoughts, she was chewing on a piece of fruit while Mausi—she was swimming in the river with Brun—she was waving goodbye to Rin—Harel was handing her a flower. Her memories became a blur, whipping past her; there was only a glimpse of the desert, then a peek at the looming mountains and the machines that they hid.

  She looked inside her mind. The memories were still there; she was still whole. Homesmind had, she supposed, looked at them and then made them part of Itself. She sensed an answering wave of thought. She was awed as she realized how much there was in Homesmind; no one person could grasp it all. She was sure she had caught only the bare surface.

  She sensed that Homesmind was speaking to Etey, though she could not read the thoughts. Then a feeling rippled from It to her. She could not quite interpret the emotion; it was part curiosity, part understanding, part distant compassion. The feeling soothed her. She was not afraid of Homesmind.

  Then she saw Earth again, and the mountains under which machines were hidden. She saw mountains she had never seen before. She saw range after range, some built by nature, pushing to an impossible height above clouds, others barely higher than foothills and covered with trees. She saw mountains once made by human beings, some of them barren, others covered with weeds.

  There were villages near all the ranges. Some were like her own home, huts near rivers and plains. Some nestled in fertile valleys. Others were in jungles or in colder climes; she saw huts made of reeds and dwellings made of timber or snow. They were superficial differences; the life of the villages went on, much like the life in her own. Young people faced ordeals, older ones became Merging Selves, sometimes able to touch another village with threads of thought. The image rippled. She saw Homesmind send out a stream of thought like a river. The stream flowed through space, touching the machines of Earth, seeking knowledge.

  She floated aimlessly, then felt a hand on her brow. She blinked and saw the face of Etey. For a moment, she wanted to be with Homesmind again. Etey removed the circlet. Daiya, inside herself again, stretched her legs. Her back ached; her shoulders were stiff. She wiped her sweaty face with a sleeve.

  Daiya opened her mouth, then closed it again, feeling unable to speak. “What you know and remember is part of Homesmind now,” Etey said. “It will now learn from your cybernetic intelligences on Earth, and they will learn from It. That knowledge will be available to us, and to your people also, should they decide to seek it.” Etey's face softened as she looked at Daiya. “I now remember your life also,” she went on. “You have endured much.”

  “Intelligences,” Daiya murmured. “I see that there are such things in machines, but I do not see how it is possible. It is like thinking a wagon can reason.”

  Etey smiled. “When a machine reaches a certain complexity, a certain point where it can become conscious of itself, how can it not happen? Homesmind was once our servant only, now It is many more things to us. The fact that It has not chosen to become our master makes me believe that in many ways It is our superior.” She paused. “In time, you would come to understand much more of what Homesmind can tell you, with more precision.”

  “What will Homesmind do now?” Daiya asked, thinking of the machines on Earth.

  “Homesmind will learn, and reason, and draw certain conclusions. It will share them with those who are interested. It will not force anyone to accept them.” Etey reached over and touched Daiya's hand. “You may have brought us something very important.”

  She got up and helped Daiya to her feet. The wall dividing the room became transparent again and slid away. Etey turned to the wall nearest them. The deer disappeared as the wall retracted. The children were giggling again. Daiya followed Etey out of the room, with Reiho close behind her. The wall closed behind them.

  Daiya stood still, realizing that she could place herself, orient herself in relation to the rest of the comet. Homesmind had placed that knowledge in her mind; she would be able to find her way around this world. Two hundred paces ahead was the park where she had spoken with Reiho. The place where his craft had landed was above the cliff in which he and Etey made their home.

  They were near a brook which ran through a small clearing. Flat rocks lay on the green grass in an elaborate pattern. Daiya looked at the pattern, understanding it. The rocks symbolized the molecular construction of the grass while hinting at an equation expressing the chemical composition of the water flowing in the brook. The pattern was also
a poem, though she could not read it. She shivered, wondering what else Homesmind had communicated to her.

  She walked over to the brook, knowing she could follow it to a pool surrounded by slender trees with white bark. She glanced at a nearby surface, recognizing that the patterns etched on it were calligraphy, marks making written words, though she could not read them. The brook itself spelled an idea, though she did not know what it was.

  Etey and Reiho followed her. Etey stood next to her, silent for a few moments, then spoke. “You see how much Homesmind can teach you. You do not have to be a stranger here.”

  Daiya stared at the brook. The water flowed, bubbling over rocks, flowing around stepping-stones. She thought of living with calming substances inside her, without her powers, in a world of people wedded to machines and living in gardens. It was not what she had thought it was. She did not know if it was what she wanted. Even here, Earth seemed to pull at her, calling her home.

  “There is an emptiness in me,” she said to Etey and Reiho, wondering if they could understand what she meant. “I cannot just leave everything I knew. I know I'm not like most of my people, that in many ways I didn't fit in there either, that they may not take me back because there may be no place for me. But I was taught all my life that I could not, should not separate myself from others, and you are asking me to separate myself from everyone on Earth. I don't think I can.”

  Reiho gazed at her sympathetically. Again, for just a moment, she had the illusion of touching his thoughts. “I must at least try to share what I have discovered with my village,” Daiya concluded, remembering the machines under the mountains again. She felt a twinge, knowing that the desire to learn more about those machines, and the obligation to share what she knew with her people, was not enough by itself to draw her. If she could have been happy on this strange world, she might have remained.

  Etey nodded. “If that is how you feel, then there is little more I can say to you.”