Rejoice, a Knife to the Heart

by Steven Erikson

  He offered up a sheepish smile. “At least she’s Canadian.”

  “Yes, and so are you, when not bound by some other country’s nondisclosure agreements.” She retrieved the file folder and closed it up. “Maybe you’re the wrong person to bring in on this, when it comes to trying to figure out why they abducted Samantha August and not some modern Carl Sagan, or Jeff Goldblum. What I need is an expert on alien sociology—any idea where I can find such a person?”

  Marc Renaud felt himself sinking deeper into his chair. He shrugged helplessly, and then said, “Well, find another Science Fiction writer, I suppose.”

  The gleam of triumph in Lisabet Carboneau’s eyes was only slightly marred by a hint of malice as she smiled at Marc.

  “Madam,” he said, “Sam August’s abduction—I don’t know if anyone else has connected it to this First Contact event—do you plan on making that public, too?”

  “Not yet,” she replied.

  “So it stays, uh, secret?”

  “Touché.” She was silent for a moment, and then she said, “Kemp tried to talk me out of it.”

  Marc nodded. “Of course he did.”

  “Is it telling, do you think, that the ETs didn’t snatch an Etonian?”

  He hesitated, and then said, “I hope so.”

  “So do I, Marc. So do I.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “The best solutions usually suck.”

  SAMANTHA AUGUST

  One wall of her room had been transformed into a multitude of screens, showing feeds from television stations as well as webcasts. The news networks were a riot of reports on how the end of violence was shaking human culture to its core, driving civilization to its knees. Philosophers were never so popular as they were now, as journalists floundered and stumbled through their questions, only to gaze with bemused confusion at the answers.

  Not that answers were readily forthcoming. At least most of the philosophers, dusted-off and brushed up in their academic tweeds, were pushing to the heart of the issue, which had nothing to do with alien technology, and everything to do with how humans related with each other.

  On other stations, the sitcoms and reality shows continued. Sports were played, crowds cheered and jeered, hotdogs and nachos all around, and it seemed the pretense of civilization was more important than ever. Even there, however, it felt like everything was sitting on a powder keg, and the fuse smoldered on.

  “This is overwhelming,” Samantha August said, reaching for her pack of cigarettes and lighting up. “The economy’s in tatters and they’re predicting shortages soon, and it seems that while you’re good at what not to do, you’re not so good at what we need to do to replace the things we’ve always done.”

  “You do comprehend, Samantha August, that dictates delivered now would be counter-productive.”

  Sam pointed her cigarette at one screen. “There, what that guy’s talking about. This is a crisis of authority. What you’ve done is strike at the heart of human society.”

  “Would you care to elaborate?” Adam asked.

  She sighed, rose, and walked over to her bed, where she settled back and stared up at the white ceiling. “Authority is fragile. Even the smallest groups establish a set of rules governing behavior. Rituals and taboos, ways of dealing properly with one another. A lot of this relates to identity, to how a group chooses to define itself. But it’s also about keeping the peace.”

  “Understood.”

  “I’m not sure you do. The fist is implicit. Sure, small hunter-gatherer groups didn’t go for that threat of violence as a means of coercing civil behavior within the band or tribe. Their final threat was banishment, often tantamount to a death-sentence, but once removed. The banished often just withered and died, possibly because they lost the most important thing to them: their identity. Isolate the criminal. It’s an ancient practice and of course we still use it, only now, in modern societies, banishment is not a death sentence anymore.”

  “Why not?” Adam asked, interrupting her train of thought.

  She blew smoke upward. “Increase your population and you get anonymity. You also get sub-cultures, sub-groups, so the outliers are now more able to find one another and thus reassert identity, even if that consists of a secret online cabal of child pornographers, or molesters, or Nazis or whatever. These days, anonymity is often desired.”

  “Because a particular behavior is deemed heinous.”

  “Yes.”

  “Accordingly,” Adam resumed, “anonymity permits the perpetuation of these heinous behaviors, even within a context of self-identification. Outside the law, as it were.”

  “Hence criminal organizations, yes. But the thing is, both sides of the law require that fist, that ultimate threat of violence, and the fear that such a threat engenders. Because fear makes people obedient. The converse of that is just as important, Adam: the absence of fear, or threat of violence, can make people monsters.”

  “Apprehension of criminals is not being prevented,” Adam said. “I apply full discriminatory judgement in each instance. However, the distinction between intention and action is one that is central to your collective human legal systems.”

  “Don’t you need to make the same distinction?” Sam asked.

  “No. In order to prevent a crime, I must act upon intention.”

  “So your blanket-presence down there can read minds?”

  “Unnecessary. Intention is rarely difficult to assess, based on numerous physiological indicators.”

  “You can read us like a book.”

  “But with more than typical comprehension. As we understand it, with respect to your species’ relationship with the written word, both entertainment and pleasure is possible even with minimal comprehension.”

  “Ha ha, very funny, Adam. But let’s get back to the point. Among humans, it’s not a crime to think bad thoughts. It’s only a crime if you act on them. And that is a valid recognition of human nature, since we’re not all sweetness and light.” She gestured toward the screens on the far wall. “What you’ve done is stepped in as the ultimate arbiter on human behavior. You’ve taken it out of our hands and that’s where the flaw in your thinking comes in.”

  “In what way is our thinking flawed, Samantha August?”

  “We define adulthood as a solemn recognition of responsibility. We make the distinction when considering the acts of children, and will argue that they were not responsible, because their brains have not yet matured to make the proper connection between an act and its consequences.”

  “Those adults who subsequently commit crimes are those who failed to comprehend that connection, then?”

  “Some, yes. Others don’t give a shit. They deliberately choose to commit a crime and bank on not getting caught. At this point, in kicks our belief systems, which is where you find the ultimate arbiter to our lives: that unblinking eye that saw everything, knew every thought, witnessed every sin. And thou shall be judged.”

  “But only after you die.”

  “Setting that judge outside of mortal constraints is the only guarantee of its incorruptibility.”

  “Yet few choose to believe in the manner they once did,” observed Adam.

  Sam pursed her lips. “Historians insist we were more god-fearing once, yes. Personally, I’m not convinced. Sure, there have always been fanatics, but here’s the thing. Every fanatic I’ve ever met shares one thing: the unswerving conviction that they’re right. They may speak out in the name of this god or that god, but what they really are is egomaniacal control-freaks. They don’t speak for God, they think they are God.” She flicked her cigarette to the floor. “So, for everyone else, in those so-called God-fearing ages, it was more likely a case of being terrified of the fanatics—who often held positions of power, and who always presumed to speak on God’s behalf. As an appeal to authority, you can’t get much better than that.”

  “So,” said Adam, “even in the recognition of a god outside of corrupt influence, that god was nevertheless c
orrupted.”

  “The sacred succumbs to the secular. We can’t manipulate what goes on after death, so we manipulate the hell out of everything else. And if you don’t agree, we kill you, burn you, torture you, get you to confess your crimes. But none of that has much to do with God. It’s all about control, and by extension, authority, which brings us back to the threat of violence. The fist behind the veil.”

  “Which in turn relates back to a notion of identity,” said Adam, “but one where to belong is to live and to not-belong is to die. Where believers are allies and non-believers are the enemy.”

  “And from there it’s not a far step to protest groups demanding rights over a woman’s own body. Speaking of which, what’s your take on abortion?”

  “Do you eat eggs?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The unborn embryos of chickens, Samantha.”

  “But we humans make a distinction between the value of human life and all other lives, and yes, I know, it’s a pretty self-serving one. The scientific types define that distinction on the basis of sentience. The religious types on the basis of the immortal soul, which apparently only us humans possess, since we were made in God’s image and are unique in containing His spark.”

  “But did not God create all life? Is life itself not defined by virtue of that spark? Furthermore, the distinction of sentience is not valid. There are many forms of sentience, and a sentience that defines sentience based exclusively on itself has not only imposed false parameters on sentience, it is in fact not yet fully sentient. In other words, Samantha, there are many sentient species here on Earth.”

  “I suspected as much. But we can’t help but anthropomorphize what we observe in the behavior of other animals, so that we can call it cute. Like you say, ours is the only definition of sentience we possess.”

  “One’s body is sovereign,” said Adam. “None can impose their will upon it.”

  “And the unborn embryo? What of an external will imposed upon it?”

  “All life is potential, Samantha August. Within life, sentience is a contingency. An embryo is not sentient. It is a life set forth as potential. Not all potentials are realized.”

  “So ET’s not going to be carrying a sign outside any abortion clinic in the foreseeable future.”

  “More to the point, Samantha August, those protestors are no longer able to impose their will upon women seeking abortions.”

  “Well, they took to recording women who enter the clinics and then posting the video online. Even before you arrived. Presumably as an act of shaming.”

  “It was understood early on,” replied Adam, “that humans were capable of reprehensible acts, particularly when proceeding from a position of self-righteousness. Such video recordings will not survive online, as I am in complete control of your web.”

  “You are? And you’re what, censoring us?”

  “I am removing the spiritual violence being committed behind anonymity. I am refusing the more despicable examples of false courage, bullying, hate-mongering, and intimidation. Violence, as we both know, need not be physical. Your society displays cycles of pernicious judgmentalism, and you are in one such peak period at the moment.”

  “Our education system no longer teaches empathy,” Sam said. “Now, if everybody in college had to take a minor in Literature, the world would be a better place.”

  “The future will demand such empathy, Samantha August.”

  “Then we’ll have to learn it the hard way. Which is, I suppose, what you’re doing.” She sat up, walked back to face all the screens. “So, what’s next, Adam?”

  “The Intervention Protocol’s Second Stage is proceeding. Selective advances in technology have been provided under terms of universal access. Disclosure elements are pending.”

  “Uh huh. Now, tell me more about the Greys.”

  “A parasitic species that will no longer plague you. They are already exiting the solar system.”

  “Why? You being pacifists and all, why should they fear you?”

  “Those whom you call the Greys are what you might call psychic-feeders. The more powerful the emotion, the more addictive it becomes to them. They force terror upon their victims and feed on the biochemical reaction.”

  “Great, a spacefaring civilization of junkies.”

  “This means of feeding is violent and constitutes a fundamental assault upon the sanctity of individual consciousness. We impose our denial. They have moved on.”

  “That’s it?”

  “I detect an increase in blood pressure.”

  “They fucking mind-rape humans and you just brush them away? So they can do what? Find the next planet of victims?”

  “We are not their primary reason for their flight from your solar system, Samantha August. You are. But now we venture into latter-state Protocol elements and it would be premature to discuss them now.”

  “If these mind-rape details get out, Adam, we’ll go after them.”

  “Yes.”

  She considered that for some time, eyes on the screens but not quite seeing the endless images flashing upon them. “Adam, are there other potential victims out there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Close by?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you want us to do something about it?”

  “Yes, and you will, I’m sure. Intervention Protocol is a complicated undertaking. There are immense responsibilities involved. Your species well understands righteousness, and will adhere to it with admirable ferocity.”

  “For the first time,” Sam said quietly, “you highlight a human virtue.”

  “Awakening it requires patience, and a subtle process of disclosure.”

  “The day you tell humanity that it’s a rape-victim is a day those Greys will remember.” She hesitated, and then said, “I think I’ve decided.”

  “You will speak on our behalf?”

  “You’ve finally given me the ammunition to consider the possibility that we can actually make this work.”

  “Our faith in you was absolute.”

  “Right. Only now I need to convince you to have faith in humanity, and for me to do that, I need to think of a way to convince humanity to have faith in itself. No small task, Adam.”

  “We will help.”

  “You mentioned ‘disclosure elements’ as proceeding. What did you mean?”

  “The universe is fractal, Samantha August. For this reason, it is reasonable to assume that things scale up just as they scale down. We have skirted the concept of God in our discussions, and much of what is being discussed in the media below has now come to address this fundamental issue of religious belief. After all, where does ET fit into your human concept of God? What do we believe? Do we believe at all?”

  “I was skirting all of that for a damned good reason.”

  “Understood. Samantha, consider our present level of omnipotence on your planet. From your scale of measure, it certainly may seem godlike. Religious people are expressing this unease. We have been called God and we have been called Satan. We have been cited as proof that God does not exist.”

  “And?”

  “True omnipotence is neither scalable nor relative. Accordingly, we are not omnipotent. Our area of influence is limited. Does there exist an entity or consciousness capable of perceiving the universe in its entirety, capable of similar omnipotence but on a much grander scale? If so, we cannot determine one way or the other. To date, our activities have not triggered any observable response from such an entity. But absence of proof is not proof of absence. If I may, I will return to the notion of sentience. The highest form of sentience is to ask ‘why?’ Reducing your mind to the pursuit of ‘what is’ without ever asking ‘why?’ is to deny the greatest gift of sentience.”

  “Ah. I like that. Most atheists won’t.”

  “We share with humanity this curiosity and this questioning. It is perhaps, the only truly universal trait among all sentient species. It is directly a product of our imagination, o
ur capacity to wonder, and to recognize that in order for an inner world of the mind to exist, an outer world must also exist, and as much as we may seek—even need—to impose a fundamental distinction between the two, we remain forever trapped within our realm of perception and indeed, nothing exists beyond it. Nothing at all.”

  “So what I think you’re saying is that perception defines the universe. Well, we humans have ventured onto that ground. But like so many ideas, it struggles to find an anchor, because it begs the question: if so, what’s the point?”

  “Samantha, it may be that sentience imposes the ethical framework upon the universe. That the attribution of meaning is not only our primary purpose, it is also sacred.”

  “I think we’ll need to revisit this discussion about God sometime soon. But … are ethics homogenous among all sentient species?”

  “Within a certain range of expression, yes. With but one exception that we are aware of, all advanced civilizations understand the concept of right and wrong. The challenge is, as always, finding mutual recognition of this simple truth. Xenophobia exists and must be overcome before such recognition is possible.”

  “Adam, is our galaxy a free-for-all battle for resources? So many of my fellow SF writers write it as if it was. Only a few offer any other kind of vision. Iain M. Banks comes to mind—oh, why didn’t you show up ten years ago, abduct him, cure him and … aw, shit, never mind.”

  “You are experiencing grief. I am sorry.”

  She shook her head, and then sighed.

  “To answer your question, Samantha, no, there are resources aplenty. Worlds with biomes are rarer, but colonization of such worlds is rarely attempted.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “Biomes are self-contained. Complex life-forms are fundamentally adapted to their home-world and its biota. Most biomes are not conducive to extraterrestrial invasion. Native food-sources are not compatible and the native biome will resist the introduction of foreign biota. Enforced ‘terraforming’ usually fails.”

  “So where do all the aliens live? Giant generation ships? I suppose the gravity well of worlds isn’t always desirable.”