Of a Note in a Cosmic Song; Part Four

by Nōnen Títi

  Benjamar found Nini at the new bench in front of the tiny brick oven and between the two trees, where she was busy cutting up the mosses she had gathered earlier. “I’ll help you if you teach me how,” he said sitting down.

  “No problem.” She handed him the slab of hardened mud that was the cutting board along with a warm smile.

  Jitsi had befriended her without taking into account where Nini came from, and she’d been right to do so. She had gone with her heart. Before leaving DJar, Benjamar had never met users outside of his courtroom. The problems of DJar had been kept neatly tucked away from ‘decent’ people. How had he ever been able to believe that then? Because he’d been brought up that way? But what about Skawag? He hadn’t just bought what he was told and he’d ended up in trouble for that – with his father, more often than not.

  Nini took the slab and knife back out of his hands again and laughed at his apology. Then she expressed her worries about the amount of people coming; she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to handle the medical problems that would come along. What if another disease struck?

  She might be right to worry, but the people would come. “It’s amazing that none of you got ill, being right in the middle of it all the time,” Benjamar said of the medical staff in town.

  “We were too busy to get ill, just like you were,” she answered.

  “Others were busy, too. What about Daili and Kalgar? Not to mention Branag; he never stopped.”

  Nini sighed and stopped chopping. “Daili had a cold when it started; her resistance was down. Kalgar gave up; he was too overwhelmed. Branag must have been too exhausted to resist anything.”

  “Do you believe a disease like that takes only the people that let it?” he asked her.

  “No, that would be a bit simple, but I do believe you can fight it. Not just with your body, but with your mind. I think that may be the biggest advantage the Society people had over others; they believed.” She touched his arm and she often did without thinking. “Don’t quote me on that, though. I’m not saying it always works. Even strong personalities can lose against a disease.”

  “Like Jitsi?” he asked when she went quiet.

  “Yes, but her battle was long. Those people never saw it coming.”

  It was like SJilai again, sitting here together without having to say anything. Benjamar watched her work for a bit before asking what he’d come for, about the new rules.

  “I don’t know, Benjamar. I don’t like to get involved with that. Maybe you should ask Maike or Jema when they come. They may have thought about these things.”

  “I’m sure they have, Nini, but they weren’t users. I wanted to ask the people who suffered from the DJar system first.”

  “It wasn’t just the users who suffered; all those who were misunderstood, like the ponderers, did too. Thing is, Benjamar, it’s a Geveler mistake to believe that the highest goods evolved last. Evolution is neither progressive nor purposeful, but simply adaptive. Language and rationality merely evolved as tools to communicate over distances and when dealing with objects in the physical environment, but it didn’t replace the more profound communication and understanding of the heart and the soul, which are much deeper and much more sincere. You can talk about it as much as you like, but interpretations are subject to people’s personality, so even two people with the same experience will assign different meanings. Didn’t you hear when you asked them that everybody used the word “it means” as if it was a fact? The real differences can only be intuitively perceived without words; as soon as you put words to them, you lose the deeper meaning. ”

  “So how will I make laws, Nini? If that’s true, how can we ever come to an agreement?”

  “By not putting it into permanent language, Benjamar. Law books cause injustice the moment they’re written, because they are defined to suit the personality of the writer. On Geveler all those representing the state, whether as teachers, judges, or politicians, were mind-people. They had underdeveloped emotions, which is why they considered feeling unreliable, and consequently made it unlawful as a measure of intellect, justice, or governance. In that way you create an unrealistic expectation of how people ought to be. But the importance of emotions was expressed in art – the most valued prints and movies on DJar had people deal emotionally with hurt much more adequately than the mind could; yet in real life they were dismissed. Emotional people were discriminated against.”

  “Bue, Nini, I’m intending to discuss it with everybody. Never mind that may be an impossibility. I sometimes think I have taken on more than I can handle by coming here.”

  The smile returned to her face. “You can handle it. I’m sure you can.”

  ALIENS

  They all pitched in to help carry mud and reeds from the lake and plaster them onto the frame Leyon had constructed. Benjamar felt good being physically active this way, but Nini kept cautioning him to be careful and to take it slow. At one point he told her to be quiet, but the upset that caused her made him sorry he had. “I appreciate your concern, Nini, but I’m clever enough not to push the limits. I’m not trying to keep up, I’m just enjoying it.”

  She didn’t look convinced, so on impulse he flung the mud he had in his hand right at her. The surprise on her face and then her laughter were worth the revenge she took. The boys and Hani didn’t need any encouragement before joining in, and Marya and Yako ended up wrestling in the mud. Only Remag stayed out of it.

  Quickened by his own childish behaviour, Benjamar sat down to rest on the bench later. The gaiety had done him good. Maybe he did spend too much time on serious thought. After all, everyone needed to unwind on occasion. Kun DJar had no dance clubs or sports matches, nothing for people to release the tension. Aryan may have seen that a long time ago – that was why he’d organized those games. So maybe they’d gone overboard with that name, but the basic idea hadn’t been wrong. Yet Benjamar had ruled against them and never reversed it, though he should have. That was, of course, what Aryan had meant by “admitting mistakes”.

  But this wasn’t DJar. Benjamar couldn’t go on the wave and call town to amend his shortcoming, so after having washed off the mud in the cold river, he relaxed.

  To hang out all their wet clothing, Kunag and Hani twisted a very long rope and connected it to both big shelters, which were farthest apart. Benjamar’s own shelter would be positioned between what were known as “the Hearth” and “the boys’ hut”. The fifth frame stood on the other side, between the Hearth and the girls’ shelter. When finished, all five would stand in a semi-circle facing the two trees, which had the bench and the oven between them.

  The design of these homes was ingenious, each individually shaped. His own would be round, a place to withdraw and think. Leyon raised the edging both inside and out, so it turned into a bench to sit on all the way around, as they had it in the other shelters. At the back he made the ledge wide enough to hold a mat for the sake of Benjamar’s old body.

  “That’s the great thing about the reeds – you can shape them any way you want. If you like I can make you a deep built-in seat,” Leyon said.

  Benjamar told him to let his imagination run. What he did ask Leyon about was a door; the other shelters had none.

  “You won’t get one, either. We have no material for doors, but you won’t need it anyway.”

  He was right. The entrance was made of two walls of mud that curved slightly, primarily to keep the wind out, but the curve made it impossible to look in. It wasn’t bright as day inside, but bright enough for normal life – reading and writing were no longer part of that. Nobody walked into another’s shelter uninvited; it became courtesy to call first. Benjamar soon got used to his new home. It was as good as any he’d had.

  Leyon wasn’t just good at designing homes. He had mastered other crafts as well, and set about teaching them to make mats, clay bowls, baskets, buckets, and cooking pots. The two latrines were finished, using the prefab slabs from the sleds to span the pits and with a person-sized reed shelter
on the top for privacy. That was possibly the hardest thing for Benjamar to get used to; if not the awkwardness, then the gymnastics he had to learn.

  It would be a very long time before life would be luxurious. For now they were camping out, but they were camping out in comfort, like the early Bijari. The difference was that the early inhabitants of DJar had made do because they didn’t know any other way, while the Kunjari colonists had too much knowledge and not enough resources. The lack thereof was felt more by some than by others, especially now the time for the new arrivals drew near. Nini worried, while Remag thrived on the simplicity. He was determined to build himself a little shelter at the edge of the village. “No offence, but four sets is a lot of people if you’re a person who values solitude,” he said.

  Many other needs were on everybody’s mind, but so far without solutions: fuel for lamps, material for making clothing, something sturdy to make footwear from, a connection to the ocean, and a source of protein and fat for food so as to build up their resistance for a weather change, although it was debatable whether that last one was not a luxury. They agreed, for now, to cautiously start trying some sea-water for consumption, filtered in the mosses, as an addition to the river water, being aware, however, that people’s bodies had evolved to need solid food and you couldn’t just change that.

  Marya had made it her job to provide the meals, though she didn’t object to others helping with the work. Mostly, she still cooked over the fire inside the Hearth, but she was playing with the oven behind the bench as well. Twice she’d put something inside it and then forgotten about it, only for it to be retrieved by Leyon, who used the same oven for his mud bowls.

  Kunag was quiet. He spent a lot of time with Remag, sharing the animals he’d so desperately wanted to keep to himself only a moon ago. He worried about his mother and sister.

  “Once the settlers move down here, Kunag, a road will be built. Town and the village won’t be so far apart anymore. People will travel up and down. We’re still on the same continent. We’re still one colony.”

  “What do we need a road for if we have no means of transport?”

  “Good question.” Benjamar told him about the plans to use zibots for carrying loads. They could also pull wagons. “We’d have to reinvent the wheel, so to speak. Or rather we’ll have to find the material to make it from, but all that will happen in due time. Until then, it’ll be a road to walk on; the easiest path over the mountains, maybe with shelters along the way.”

  Their favourite evening pastime was discussing the future. The question tonight was whether everybody should be cooking their own food or whether to make a central kitchen.

  “You could have a number of huts around one Hearth, just like we have here now. Sort of family groups, say eight homes on average,” Remag suggested.

  That would save a lot of fuel, but they still needed resources for fires and lamps.

  “Real flames can burn on wax, which is safer,” Remag said.

  “What is wax anyway? Where do we get it?”

  “Wax comes from animals or minerals. The only source I can think of here is the bees; other sources on DJar were fossilized forests deep in the ground.”

  “Forget it – we’re not killing what grows now to get to what grew before. Nor are we burning animal products,” Kunag told him.

  “Nobody said we would,” Benjamar replied. How seriously was Kunag taking his new job? “We’ll be very careful with what we use from nature, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t use any of it, just that we have to be thoughtful about it. Where people live they’ll have an impact; that can’t be helped. We won’t be sitting around a campfire for the rest of our time here. Besides, just think of how many reeds that would use up.”

  “But those are there for us to use, so we won’t destroy the plamals,” Kunag replied.

  “They are convenient, because there are so many, but they are also plamals, Kunag,” Yako said.

  Leyon jumped in and took Kunag’s side. Both were adamant that the reeds replenished themselves to serve people’s needs, even for fires. Every few days when they returned there were new reeds, always proportionate to the amount they’d taken.

  “And they know it as well. I even thank them every time,” Leyon said. He looked around the circle, as if expecting laughter, but he wasn’t joking and neither was Kunag when he said that the planet was cleaning up after them. “Leyon’s clothes didn’t just walk away from the rock I left them on.”

  When returning to town, the expedition had found one of Leyon’s toy reed boats at one of the lakes, where Leyon had forgotten his clothes, but Marya and Yako, convinced they were talking about the same rock, had not found any clothes. “It can’t have been the wind or it would have taken the toy first,” Kunag said. “And it took our hair as well.”

  Remag asked them a lot more questions and then asked the boys to show him the reed lake tomorrow. “I’ve decided that I’m not going to turn down any suggestion, no matter how alien it sounds,” he said. “After all, we are the aliens.”

  But even if reeds were plentiful for fire fuel, they smoked a lot. They also were no good for lamps.

  “I wonder if we could catch the ocean film and use it as light,” Leyon said.

  “Everything’s possible. As long as you keep coming up with questions, you’ll keep finding answers.”

  “So what about homes for the new people? We should have some ready,” Marya said.

  “Sure, let’s put a shelter or two in different places so people can huddle together. Farmers with farmers; it’ll be cosy,” Yako joked.

  “Yes, and if everybody then goes and visits everybody else at night you can have a party,” Nini told him, smiling.

  In return, she got a big grin from Yako.

  “Why don’t you just move in?” she asked. “It would make it a whole lot easier.”

  Benjamar got the basic idea of what had been happening. Yako looked at Marya, who in turn asked if Hani would mind if he did.

  “What would be so different from what it is now?” Hani asked.

  “What about the other girls you’re waiting for?” Benjamar asked.

  “Jema won’t mind. I’m not sure about Laytji or Flori,” Nini said.

  “That’s okay. They can move in with us,” Leyon said.

  “I’ll have Maike move in with you so she can keep an eye on you,” Benjamar threatened him.

  Leyon laughed, but didn’t object.

  PATHETIC OLD FOOL

  At the same time that she noticed the familiar shape in the increasing glow behind him, Maike saw the flames. She instantly knew what it was – the recently constructed power shop under the wind generators at the foot of the dunes.

  Only three days ago, a team of workers had connected the heliopanels to its roof. All the equipment and supplies from the old workshop, all electrical wiring salvaged from the landers, all the future technology – it had all been moved into that building.

  She sprinted to town and banged on the first home she came across to alert those inside. “Quick, wake everybody! There’s a fire!”

  She ran ahead to organize collection vessels for water to be taken out of the river. In no time people were running everywhere, but by then Maike knew it was useless. Drink water containers were nowhere near big enough. It took nearly half an hour just walking to the dunes, never mind carrying water. She turned around and headed towards Aryan’s home.

  This was it. Without the power shop Roilan would have to give up his dream of progress. His pride and joy, which had taken so long to be finally finished, would be no more than a burned-out shed by morning and all hell would break loose.

  No question: Frimon would get slandered for this. Everybody knew he was due to leave for the new settlement tomorrow, along with herself and five kor of others. Everybody knew he blamed Roilan for that.

  She entered Aryan’s home without knocking. He was still wearing his coat and boots.

  “You come to say goodbye?” he asked with a smug smi
le.

  “I’m still law enforcement until tomorrow morning and I can throw you in a cell for what you just did.”

  Aryan was anything but sober. Like his home, his clothes and beard had collected a thick layer of filth. “I don’t know what you’re on about,” he said.

  “You stupid drunk. If you think I’ll let you get away with this, if you think Frimon will pay, you’re wrong.”

  She wasn’t afraid of him, but alert. Aryan at his best could be easily angered. The wine wouldn’t help. The only defence she had, in case he lost it altogether, was the belt which kept her tunic together. She put one hand around it, her thumb on the catch.

  “You siding with that abusive fanatic now?” Aryan asked.

  “You miserable idiot. How could you be so stupid? You’ll end up in prison for this.”

  “Go ahead, darling. That’s where you wanted me all this time anyway. You’d be finally rid of me.”

  He wasn’t just saying that. Sober people might be careful to keep their feelings to themselves, but drunks never were. Not that Frimon’s recent behaviour had been so mature – after the trial he’d spread rumours. Clever enough to know how gossip worked, he’d dropped one sentence to the right person and in no time everybody had heard and believed the new truth. The bulletin had not been on Frimon’s side, but the grapevine certainly was, and his latest rumour had been to declare the brand-new power shop to be the only remaining source for guaranteeing a technological future for town. The right kind of gossip to one angry person and the damage was done.

  That angry person stood in front of her. Even now, looking like a pathetic old fool, she couldn’t help but love him. If she threw him in a cell his last bit of dignity would be gone for good, though it might clean him up. If she didn’t, Frimon would be condemned. Though he may deserve it, it wouldn’t be fair.