by C H Gideon
“How do we do that?” one asked from his seat nearby. Emotions were raw, but the Telluride were starting to listen—or they were too exhausted to argue. Jiya hoped it was the former.
“We have Gorad enact laws with our assistance, and create consequences for those who violate them,” the first officer said. “We offer everyone freedom of choice, and defend that choice to the end so that no one can take advantage of others without there being some kind of reprisal.”
“And you think we can accomplish this?” San Roche asked.
“I do,” Jiya told him, nodding. “But it requires cooperation, not only between the Telluride and Grindlovians but among the Telluride, too. This cannot be achieved if you insist upon fighting each other.”
Which was, of course, what happened immediately after her statement.
The crowd erupted, and both sides raised their voices to argue their points, the normally happy faces of the Telluride twisted in anger and frustration as they contradicted each other.
After several minutes without the noise quieting, Jiya called for them to settle again. She had to find a way to get them to contemplate the concept of freedom from a different perspective.
Up until then, the Telluride had spent all their time working for the Grindlovians, avoiding any real conversations about their way of life because it simply was what it was.
Now, however, with the arrival of the Reynolds and the realization that Gorad was not infallible, the Tellurides’ frustration had risen into the light.
Unfortunately for them, they didn’t have any coping mechanisms to process complex emotions or problems. They’d never had to before.
Jiya needed to get them focused and give them the opportunity to contemplate their future outside of familiar surroundings where they would resort to old habits.
“I have an idea, people,” Jiya told the assemblage.
Geroux was amazed by the gatherings of the Grindlovians.
While she’d seen the raucous back and forth of the Telluride during the strike, everyone shouting their opinion and beliefs, the Grindlovian assembly was an ordered affair.
The people sat in their mobile chairs and stared at one another, barely any expression marring their features. The council parked at the front of the crowd and did most of the talking, but even that was short and to the point.
Early on the meetings had lasted about an hour, and Councilwoman Fulla Sol stated her opinion over and over until the crowd agreed or dispersed for lack of progress.
A week later, though, things had begun to take on another shape, which Geroux could feel as soon as the group convened.
A big part of the change was that Geroux, Takal, and Gorad had gotten together and worked out a way for the Grindlovians to live more independent lives without the necessity of Telluride intervention.
The move had stirred up feelings Geroux had yet to see among the passive Grindlovians.
“These devices are ridiculous,” Fulla Sol called as a contingent of those the crew and Gorad had helped arrived to state their case.
They came under their own power, which was marvel enough for most of those attending the meeting.
Geroux smiled when they got there.
Slow and awkward as they might have been, these Grindlovians’ simple arrival was a protest.
No longer bound to their chairs, they wore mechanical leg supports similar to the powered body armor Federation soldiers wore.
The devices, which covered their legs and assisted the Grindlovians to walk, had a makeshift frame that ran up the back. Strapped around their midsection, the powered devices forced the people to stand upright and use muscles long atrophied by the convenience of having everything done for them.
Heavy-booted stomps announced their joining the morning meeting, and Geroux caught a glimmer of disgust emanating from the council members as they watched the newcomers walking.
“No more so than those,” Fulla Shar replied. Her arms hung limp at her sides and flopped as she settled into place.
Geroux knew she, her uncle Takal, and Gorad would need to do more for these people than create another machine to replace the others. For the moment, the support frames gave the Grindlovians who wanted it a taste of independence, something the crew hoped would spread and become a rallying call among the Grindlovians.
“At least with these, I can travel the city of my own accord, not bound to a seat,” Fulla Shar added. “Today, I watched my csma be mixed, something I had never before seen because of my chair. I could see over the counter for the first time in my life.”
“And watching such simple labor excites you?” Fulla Sol asked. “How…sad.”
“Why is it sad to want to experience more, whether it be more of the city or more of life?” Fulla Shar shot back. “Our existence has been the same since I was born,” she went on. “The robots delivered me from my mother’s womb by cutting her open, my father placed me there with the aid of mechanics, never once even touching my mother with love or tenderness. I was born of machines, as were all of you.”
She motioned to where Gorad stood at the edge of the gathering, silently observing alongside Geroux and Takal.
The old scientist nursed a drink and, for the first time, Geroux didn’t argue his having it. In fact, she was jealous she hadn’t thought to bring one of her own.
“We have lost so much more of ourselves than we’ve ever known,” Fulla Shar finished.
“We have lost nothing!” Vor Stygn cursed.
“And you would upend Grindlovian society simply so you can fulfill some unsettled wanderlust?” Fulla Sol questioned.
“How is it wanderlust to want more?”
“We have everything we need,” Fulla Sol argued, giving a brief shake of her head. “There is nothing we lack, so why would we tear ourselves apart to appease strangers who have no inkling who and what we are as a people?”
“Such narrow-minded arguments from you, Fulla Sol,” Fulla Shar said, raising a twig of an arm to point at the councilwoman. “Are we to evolve to the point where we do nothing for ourselves, where we become nothing more than minds within a jar, the Telluride and Gorad doing everything for us?”
“You speak of paradise, Fulla Shar,” Vor Stygn announced. “To be free of our husks to simply exist is an honor.”
Fulla Shar chuckled weakly, little more than the barest of rumbles.
“Not all of us would go to our graves so devoid of attachment,” she explained.
“And therein lies your problem,” Fulla Sol fired back. “You want more than is necessary.”
Fulla Shar shook her head. “No, I want…” she waved to those around her suited in the powered legs, “we want to experience life to the fullest. Why have flesh just to let it wither and rot on our bones?”
“That is how things are meant to be!” Fulla Sol shouted, throwing her voice across the room.
“Says who?” Fulla Shar asked in response. “The elders? The council? You would determine everything for us? Have we lost the ability to make our own decisions? I see why the Telluride rebelled.”
“We will do what is right,” Fulla Sol argued. “There will be no more talk of this.” She wiggled a hand to indicate her finality. “Gorad can tend to us in the absence of the Telluride.”
“So, are we to become his slaves, much as you view the Telluride to be ours?” Fulla Shar asked, sneering.
Gorad started to argue, but Geroux put a hand on his arm and shook her head.
“Let them work it out for now,” she told the AI.
“We will never be slaves!” Fulla Sol shouted, actually leaning forward in her seat.
“We already are,” Fulla Shar argued. She reached down and tapped her neighbor’s chair, then the powered legs she wore. “We are enslaved by these devices, day in and day out. We are never without them, not even in rest, for we cannot move without aid.”
“That is simply who we are,” Vor Stygn defended.
“Useless?” Fulla Shar fired back. “No, that is not what
I will be.”
“None of us are useless,” Fulla Sol announced. “We are the leaders of Grindlevik 3, and its masters. We are in control of all who reside on this planet.” She turned a baleful eye upon Geroux, her lip trembling with disdain. “As such, we must rid ourselves of these creatures who would bring strife among us.”
She addressed Geroux and Takal.
“You and your people must leave our world now!” she declared. “We will brook no more of your interference. You are hereby banned from ever returning to Grindlevik 3!”
Geroux gasped and rocked back as if struck, but Gorad was having none of it.
He marched forward so that he was in the center of the gathering and stared at both sides, his gaze landing on Fulla Sol and her fellow council members.
“This has gone on long enough,” Gorad told the Grindlovians. “It is clear that neither you nor the Telluride will resolve your differences without assistance.”
“We had no differences until these people showed up on our doorstep and began sowing discontent,” Fulla Sol argued.
Gorad laughed at that. “That is untrue, and you know it, Fulla Sol,” he replied. “Life went on as it always had, but that is not the same thing as not having problems. They were simply overlooked or ignored.”
“I disagree,” Fulla Sol told him. “All minor issues were resolved as they have always been until these people came to us. They have stirred this into a frenzy.”
Geroux glanced around at the quiet, stationary assemblage and wanted to argue it was nothing like a frenzy. But she held her tongue and let Gorad continue.
“That might be true, Fulla Sol,” Gorad told the female, “but that does not make things right. It simply makes them how they were.”
He gestured toward the Grindlovians wearing the powered legs.
“These people, and there are clearly many of them, think there are problems that need to be addressed. Grindlovian society has failed them. That alone is reason enough to do more.”
“I disagree,” Fulla Sol replied, shaking her head. “We will do as we always have, and that is all.”
Gorad spun on the female, jabbing a finger at her. Geroux was amazed to see anger so evident on his twisted android features.
“No, you will not,” he told her plainly. “As you have made clear, I support both you and the Telluride, I am to blame for your apathy and for your advancement,” he said. “That ends now!”
The crowd gasped, and Geroux and Takal’s eyes went wide at hearing it.
Though the sound had barely registered, having spent time around the Grindlovians, it was as if they had all screamed at once.
“What do you mean by that?” Vor Stygn asked, Fulla Sol too shocked to respond.
“I mean that I will impress upon the people, both Grindlovian and Telluride, that I am no more a slave than they are,” he explained. “I control Grindlevik 3, and will continue to do so. As of now, all citizens of the planet must abide by a singular rule.
“That rule is contribution,” he finished.
“Contribution?” Fulla Sol asked, aghast.
“Yes, contribution,” the alien AI responded. “From this moment on, all citizens of Grindlevik 3 must contribute to the betterment and advancement of the planet and its people or they will face the consequences.”
“This is insane!” Fulla Sol shrieked breathlessly.
“No more so than a species of beings so intent upon their own comfort and laziness that they would enslave another to care for them,” he replied. “And no more than a race of beings willing to be enslaved to satisfy their need to serve others.”
He shook his head.
“Both sides are insane, and I wish I had had the clarity to see this sooner,” Gorad said, turning away from the council. “But no more,” he muttered. “Change begins today! Prepare yourselves.”
Those Grindlovians in the powered legs cheered, a quiet murmur that spoke volumes to Geroux. Many more in the chairs raised their voices in both discontent and agreement, and Geroux broke into a smile at seeing it.
Many agreed, enough that Geroux thought maybe there was a chance that Grindlevik 3 could rise above and become a better place.
That was what she’d hoped for when they began these meetings and encouraged the Telluride to strike.
For the first time since then, she felt they might actually accomplish what they intended.
Chapter Sixteen
Jiya led the Telluride into the wilderness.
“How is this going to help them?” Reynolds asked.
“They need separation; distance from their day-to-day lives,” she explained as she had to the crowd at the dining hall.
Behind them, thousands of Telluride strode along, heads on swivels, staring around them at a world none of them had ever seen.
She had brought all the Telluride far beyond the point where she had taken the group camping and swimming. The Telluride, captives in the city by their own choice and bound to the service of the Grindlovians, had never even bothered to explore their world.
Because they had been comfortable.
Jiya was forcing them out of their comfort zone; forcing them to experience the real world.
She’d reached out to Asya aboard the Reynolds and had the captain scan the area surrounding the city. She had determined that there were no predators anywhere on the planet.
Nature reigned.
Jiya suspected Gorad had had much to do with that, but it didn’t matter, especially not right then. What did matter was that she could get the Telluride away from their preconceptions and old lives.
“You looking to drown any of them this time?” Ka’nak asked as he trudged along.
Jiya chuckled. “Maybe you for asking that question, but none of them,” she shot back.
He raised his hands in surrender and laughed. “Just checking.”
Jiya had learned her lesson.
While she wanted to continue teaching the Telluride how to swim, camp, survive, forage, and anything else she could think of, that wasn’t what this trip was about. She didn’t want to shock them into compliance. She wanted only to broaden their horizons and have them look at the world through a different lens.
“What do you call…this?” L’Willow asked, staring around her with wide eyes.
“We’re on walkabout,” Jiya explained.
“Walkabout?”
Jiya nodded. “Yes. It’s a way to gain a different perspective about your lives.”
“I don’t understand,” L’Willow told her.
“Not sure I do either,” Ka’nak muttered.
Maddox grinned. “Every day you wake up and go to work,” he started. “Then you go home, spend time with your family, sleep, then do it again the next day.”
“I’m not certain I see the issue with that,” L’Sofee replied, coming over to join them.
“It’s not a problem,” Maddox explained, “but it is a habit. One that could trap you.”
“If life never changes it may as well be a prison,” Jiya told them, “no matter how comfortable it might be.”
The Telluride stared at them as if they were speaking a foreign language, not understanding.
“Do I have to refuse what I like just because someone else thinks it is limiting me? Home could never be a prison,” L’Sofee said.
“But it can be,” Jiya argued. “What you do, and what you don’t do, can become as limiting as any bars.”
“Out here, away from all that,” Maddox continued, “you are not bound by what you are, but only by what you can imagine.”
“Glad I wore my boots,” Ka’nak muttered. “It’s getting deep.”
Jiya shushed him.
“Out here on walkabout, you are free to believe and contemplate life without being surrounded by the life you already have. Out here, you can see what might be and how you can approach your existence when you return to the city. When you get back, everyone will have to make their choice. ”
L’Sofee sighed. “I’m not sure
I understand, but I am willing to give it a try.”
Jiya patted her on the shoulder, offering a smile. “That’s all I ask of your people. Now, go back and join them. Discuss what you want, but also open your eyes and your senses to the world around you. Let nature guide you.”
The de facto Telluride leader and L’Willow drifted back to join the rest of the Telluride and share what Jiya had told them.
Conversations began among small groups as they traveled, and Jiya was pleased to note they carried none of the hostility that had been present earlier.
“You really think this is going to work?” Reynolds asked.
Jiya shrugged. “I don’t know, but it did for me. I used to do this all the time when I felt trapped in my father’s palace.”
“That’s called running away,” Ka’nak joked.
“Exactly,” Jiya admitted, gesturing to the crowd of Telluride behind them. “I believe it will be a good thing for them, too.”
“You think so?” Reynolds asked. “Should they not be facing their problems instead?”
“They are,” she replied, “just indirectly. They’re removing a layer of stress and giving themselves some distance to see things more clearly, which allows them to focus more clearly. Out here, there’s nothing but the trees to judge them and the breeze to whisper in their ears.”
“Lofty expectations to place on a bunch of plants,” Reynolds said.
Jiya shrugged. “If nothing else, it gets them away from Gorad and the Grindlovians for a time. Look at them; it’s already changed the conversation.”
“Not arguing,” Reynolds told her, raising his hands. “I’m simply not sure we’re doing anything more than delaying the inevitable conflict.”
“That’s not a bad thing either. Making decisions when emotions are ragged is a poor practice. I speak from personal experience,” she replied.
Reynolds nodded, appreciating her introspection. “Time is your friend.”
