by Ann Christy
I want to hug it.
At first, I thought we were looking outside at it, but that’s not the case. I can see now that there’s another transparent wall beyond this one and that the ship is outside of that. That means the ship is even larger than my perspective here makes it seem, because there’s a huge pier-like area between the wall I’m standing at and the one beyond.
Jack still has his arm around me, almost holding me up even though I don’t really need it anymore. We’re almost level with a long walkway that leads through the other glass wall to an enclosure stuck to the side of the ship. I can tell it’s the door…or hatch if we use a proper boat term for it.
The ship itself stretches far above and below, making the elevated walkway look as small as a toy compared to the ship. The vessel is almost slotted into the dock, like a key in a keyhole. I can see the back end of the ship, all swoops and curves, with arrays that must be for the propulsion. Far below us is a work floor of sorts, which is also huge.
But then I see a cockroach enter this walkway from a side walkway that leads inside the hub somewhere further down.
“What the heck is that? Is that a freaking cockroach?” I ask, my disgust pretty evident.
Jack lets me go, stepping away from me. The look on his face says he’s disappointed in me and I immediately feel bad. Clearly, that was not the correct reaction. I look again, but the bug-like creature is already far down the walkway. I can’t make out more than a quick, black-ish blob.
“That’s an intelligent and sentient being as complex as you or me,” he says, an admonition in his tone.
I take a deep breath, because I have to think before I speak this time. I’ve offended him and more importantly, I’ve offended myself. I can’t react like that. This galaxy is filled with things other than what I know. I must be ready to understand and accept them.
“I’m sorry. That was rude. My first impression is that it looked like a bug on Earth, one we’re not generally fond of.”
Jack purses his lips a little, but I see that flick of his eyes that happens when he asks Hub something, so I’m guessing he’s looking up cockroaches. Almost immediately, he points down at the work floor far below and says, “There are more down there. Can you see them? Over there.”
I press closer to the wall because the angle is bad, but I see them. They seem to be working at some huge machine. “They’re workers or something?”
Jack shakes his head and grins. “Not like you probably think. They have a pretty unique system on their world. Like your planet, they have many levels of sentient beings, but only two technological species. Their whole system is based on order…as in perfect order. They like to keep things just so, and are incapable of remaining unoccupied. If they aren’t resting or eating, they’re doing something productive. Waste is unheard of on their planet and that made them of great interest.
“When their planet was aided, they were already space-faring. Because there were two worlds in their system with life, they had already accepted that life existed many places. So, for them it wasn’t like your planet. Whole sections of their population wanted to join up, explore, and create order. For them it was like an amusement park full of interesting things to do. Some of them live and work here. What you’re seeing isn’t work for them. It’s what they do for fun.”
While Jack speaks, I watch the creatures. They’re quick, and while I don’t know exactly what they’re doing, I can tell they’re doing it with gusto even from here.
“They fix spaceships for fun?”
“Well, that and build new ones. There’s another ship in the next dock over. Sometimes they take them apart and build them again simply because they don’t think it’s done well enough. They have an amazing ability to sense flaws in machines of all sorts.”
He pauses and then touches my chin with his finger, bringing my gaze back to him. He wears a little smile that looks like a challenge when he says, “They also help to rebuild and redesign planets, to make them suitable for new life forms.”
I understand what he’s saying, and I feel horrible. “You mean, like the new Earth?”
He nods, that smile growing a little.
“They’re building the world that will save mine?”
“It’s more like adjusting, but yes. They’re very good at it. It’s something they enjoy a great deal and believe it or not, they’re better at it than Hub is.”
Two more of the creatures come out of another section onto the walkway, but this time they putter about. Jack cocks his head and almost immediately, they both freeze and make a motion that’s surprisingly delightful. To me, it looks like a hop or something. Both of them hurry down the walkway toward us. They turn off onto another walkway that runs a little closer to our window. As they get closer, I see them more clearly.
They do remind me of cockroaches or some other kind of flattish beetle in general form, but the resemblance ends there. They have armored bodies and appendages, but the differences are more numerous than the similarities. I wish I could see them better.
At the closest point of approach to our window, both creatures stop and make motions with long arms. Frilly looking appendages that might be antennae unfurl from around the place I would expect a head to be, then wave in a complicated pattern.
To my surprise, Jack laughs and goes silent. I know he must be communicating via Hub, but I have no idea what he’s saying. There are more furling appendages, a few more hops, another laugh from Jack, and then he waves as they scurry away.
“What was that all about?” I ask.
He smiles at me and says, “I’ve done several stints as them in the past. It’s very enjoyable. They were just telling me how ugly I was right now and asking when I was coming back to work.”
My mouth drops open and I look back at the shrinking forms. I can hardly believe that this guy I’ve been pondering kissing since the moment I saw him used to look like that. Not only did he look like that, he enjoyed it.
I’m very conflicted at this point.
“Are you originally one of them?” I ask, hoping he’ll say no.
He shakes his head. “No. They aren’t well suited to facilitator work since they aren’t exactly sensitive. Too blunt. They get annoyed by any communication that isn’t direct and efficient. My people are perfect for this, on the other hand, since our entire society is based on emotions and communication.”
All I can do is shake my head. This is all too weird. Just way too weird.
Waving my hand at the view, I try to choose my next words carefully, because I really don’t want to offend anyone or seem species-ist. “Okay, here’s the thing. We’ve always known that some kinds of life won’t become advanced like us. Bugs are one of them. They don’t have the brain structures needed. So how is that possible?”
Jack sighs and says, “They aren’t bugs. They may have a superficial resemblance to something you call a bug, but the Kassa aren’t bugs. That’s what their species is called, the Kassa. They’re something different. They could no more survive on your planet than you could on theirs. If we tried to go out there right now, we’d be destroyed by the atmosphere in minutes. Nothing about you is the same except your sentience and that both of your species are technological. That’s it.”
“So, what you’re saying is, don’t believe my eyes.”
He grins and reaches out to touch my ear, “Or your ears or anything else. But most of all, don’t compare things. I know it’s hard, because I did the same thing, but any comparison you make won’t be correct. Just accept.”
“I’ll try.”
“That’s good. You might not believe it, but when I first got here, I thought the Kassa were crippled.”
“What?”
“It’s true. I did. Because they speak with economy like they do, and my species is built entirely around communication, I couldn’t understand how they might be called sentient. They were too different from me.”
Before answering, I watch
the work floor far below. The tiny figures seem so incredibly busy, but somehow eager as well. What Jack just said does make me feel a little better. It’s good to know that I’m not the only one that can be shocked.
“Can I change the subject?” I ask. When he nods, I point at the ship and ask. “Who are the Bluriani?”
That seems to interest him because his eyes narrow and he looks at the ship too. “I wish I’d known them.”
“You’ve never seen them? Or known of them?”
“No, and no one I know has seen them either. Or met them. Or talked to them. Or anything at all. Supposedly, they’re no longer corporeal.”
“Well, that’s enticing.”
He laughs and says, “No kidding.”
“Can we go on the ship?” I ask, because really, that’s what I most want to do.
“I wish,” he says with a sigh. “I mean, I’ve worked on the ships in Kassa form before, so I know what parts of them are like, but I’d like to see them as a human. The ships work like the hub, in general terms anyway. They have control surfaces and I know they adjust atmosphere to allow the Kassa to work on them, but once they’re functional, they’re off limits. I think that’s for safety. They get prepped once functional for whatever lifeform the crew will switch to for any specific mission. I think it’s just a pain to switch it again for tours. We could go on one that isn’t finished yet.”
“Is that one functional?”
Jack pauses while he does his thing, then says, “Apparently, it is. I suppose we could camp right here and wait to see who goes past the wall into the ship. Then we could swap forms and take a tour, then hop off the ship before it takes off.”
I actually consider living here for a long moment. Camp here or not? Best not, I think. I’m not ready for any form-swapping yet. I sigh as I look at that gorgeous spaceship, then wonder again about the Bluriani.
“What does Hub say when you ask about the Bluriani?”
“It says only that they’re another species who are no longer corporeal and can’t change form the way we do.”
“That’s it?
He gives a little shrug and says, “Basically. I mean, there’s information, but not what you’re looking for.”
What an unsatisfactory series of answers that is. Still, Jack accepts it. I guess I have to accept it as well. My stomach takes the opportunity to make itself known and growls. We’ve been standing here for a long while and despite breakfast, I’m more than ready for some food. Also, we’re well past lunch time.
“Already?” Jack asks, surprised.
“Don’t judge. I didn’t eat my weight in food this morning.”
With that, I reluctantly leave behind that beautiful ship and the mystery that is the Bluriani species.
Twenty-Five
“What do you know about sentience?” Jack asks, as we enjoy breakfast in my room before beginning yet another day of orientation.
I’ve been here over a week and I’m learning so much that I can almost forget how desperate I am to find a way home. Almost. For a few minutes at a time anyway. Each night I get some of that overwhelmed feeling out of my body by painting the evenings away.
It may seem callous, me being all comfy and painting while my mom is on Earth, not knowing what’s become of me, but I’m truly not. At least a hundred times a day, my heart thumps an extra hard beat and I want to clench my fists in frustration. Every one of those hundred times, I push back those feelings, because I have to. I love her, miss her, and am so sorry that I’ve left her to deal with losing me that it almost turns me inside out. Still, I push it back. It won’t help me return, so I can’t dwell.
I think it might be a little like what my mom used to do when she was in the military. I don’t remember how the topic came up, but I once asked her about deployments and how she could leave me for so long when I was little. She’d told me that when she had no choice but to do it, she just did it. It wasn’t that she didn’t miss me or anything like that, but she pushed it back. I specifically remember her saying that she saved thinking of me for those times when she had a couple of hours alone, because the rest of the time it would be dangerous.
I think what I’m doing is basically the same thing. I’m compensating by thinking of other things that won’t bring me down, doing things that keep me calm. My method is working, because I wake up feeling much better each morning. Ready for the day, even.
I also wake up hungry. This space station is working like camping on my system. I’m super ready to eat when the times come for it. I’ve even stopped missing chicken and fish in my food.
Learning everything I can from Hub and Jack also helps. Information will move me forward, so I gather it like a squirrel gathers acorns. I’m not sure learning about sentience can help, but who knows, so I take Jack’s question seriously. Swallowing down my cream of wheat and washing away the stickiness with a big gulp of fake milk before answering, I say, “I know that Earth supposedly has a whole lot of sentient species, but I’m still having some difficulty with how that’s determined.”
He nods, spreading yet more chocolate on his toast, which is already liberally coated. Today he ordered a bowl of strawberries and they look exactly like real strawberries to me. I have no clue how Hub gets this stuff, but it does.
“Well, it’s complicated. Hub told me you were asking about it last night, so I thought I’d do what I can to clear it up. That okay?” he asks, putting down his knife to stick segments of strawberry into the thick coating on his toast.
His toast now looks really tasty and I’m tempted to snatch a piece. I mumble in the affirmative and consider asking for a delivery of my own. I really don’t need it, though. It would be pure gluttony.
“Well, I think the problem lies in your definition, so let’s clear that up. Sentience is not tied to technology or writing or anything else. You’re mixing up sentience with the ability to reason or use technology, which to humans implies different states of being. The truth is much more complex and subtle, because how do you define reasoning? After all, a being that lives in water and doesn’t have any concept of what it’s like to be on land will reason things out very differently from those that live on land and can’t conceive of life under the water. Out here, we define it very broadly. It’s applied based on the conditions of each planet and individual environments a species might inhabit. Make sense?”
Strangely, it does make sense. I saw the list of sentient species from my planet that are being moved, or at least part of the list, and I was super surprised to see so many. The list was far longer than I could ever hope to read. The fact that every one of our food animals was on that list except fish and fish-like things completely freaked me out too. I mean…yuck.
It makes the whole no-chicken-on-the-menu situation easier to understand.
Even so, I need clarification. I ask, “What you’re saying is if a non-transfer cow came over, it would get assigned a cow facilitator?”
He laughs, then says, “No, they would simply be returned. That almost never happens with Earth animals, though. The difference is that while the cow is sentient by our definition, because it has emotional drives, it cannot effectively change the course of life on your planet. It can’t tell its story to your media, can’t communicate the details to anyone else in a reasoned way, and can’t harness technology to alter the way your planet operates in the future. It has limited understanding of unfamiliar environments.
“Look at it this way. You have primates on your planet that aren’t just sentient, but also creatures who reason and use tools. They are—with a few crucial exceptions—no different from you, yet they would be unable to cause much change if they were returned. Even dolphins, a fascinating and incredibly intelligent species, could not communicate the details in a way that would create change. So, they would also be returned should they accidentally come through a portal. They’re very curious creatures, so we’ve gotten a few errant dolphins.”
As foreign as it is
to think about animals in these terms, I totally get it. It’s not only a matter of sentience, but also communication and the type of intelligence they possess, which would be peculiar to each species.
“Okay, I get it. I really do. A cow has the same rights I do because it’s sentient, at least as you define it here, but since we’re different in terms of communication, technology, and our specific type of intelligence, we’re treated differently. Not better or worse, just differently.”
“Exactly,” he says with a grin.
“So, what happens when people start eating cows on the new Earth?”
That wipes the grin off his face and he looks down at his partially eaten toast with some sadness. “You aren’t the only species that eats other sentient life, and no one would stop you or anything like that, but it’s something I personally find quite hard to accept. Your planet is very dynamic, your day to day conditions very changeable. Your food web is complex and reflects those conditions. Most places aren’t like that. The predation model is quite rare.”
That makes me wonder all over again what he was originally. What did he eat? Was he an herbivore chomping on alien grass? Was he a smart plant that ate the sun’s rays? His expression changes and I have this feeling he knows what I’m thinking. How does someone who isn’t even truly human do that?
“What?” I ask.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what I ate?”
“Did you guys put an implant in me while I was sleeping? Are you reading my mind or something?” I ask, feeling very exposed all the sudden.
“No, nothing like that. I already told you that my species’ entire society is built on communication and emotions. We’re very good at it. It makes us excellent facilitators. Plus, I’ve been doing this a long time, with many species before humans.”
I’m not sure I believe him, but I really don’t have a choice. So, I’ll bite. “Well, what did you eat?”
“You’d call them plankton or maybe phytoplankton, but that’s really not right because it’s an entirely different biological system. That’s about as precise as I can get using Earth examples.”
