Time of the Stones

by Fred Rothganger

  Before the long sleep she had served many patients this way. Like coming home, the pathways through this space flowed without conscious effort ... and there it was: Kantisto had a form of schizophrenia. The Ancients only offered drugs for a man like him. Genetic surgery was reserved for the very wealthy, and even then it was not particularly safe or effective. This time would be different.

  She worked through the night, preparing the programs. Sunlight streamed across the valley before she returned to her body.

  Revi looked up from her work. “Antikva, I was afraid when you didn’t wake this morning.”

  “Sorry. I was elsewhere.”

  “In the spirit world?”

  Susan shrugged. “You have no better word for it.”

  They worked in silence for a while.

  As if speaking to herself, Revi said, “The army came to our camp. They forced people to talk, until they learned who Antikva’s closest friends were. Then they took us back to the city.” Revi’s eyes glazed over, and she spoke in a flat monotone. “They put her in a room where the army lived. After the tenth man she stopped counting ...”

  The steel blade bent in half between Susan’s thumb and fingers. “I wanted to kill Perio. Then I saw Alechjo and everything inside me broke.” She dropped the ruined knife to the ground. “For a long time I fought the temptation to take physical form. When the King forced me, I gave him what he wanted.” She made a hollow laugh.

  “And then you killed him.”

  Susan shook her head. “He’s more useful to me alive.”

  Revi’s voice rose. “What about justice? I can’t hurt him, but you can. You owe it to me.”

  “What is ‘justice’? We feel like there’s some spiritual imbalance that must be restored, but what if it’s only the instinct for revenge?”

  Revi leaped up and screamed at her, “Everything is so convenient for you. You use the worst thing that ever happened to me as an excuse to get what you wanted. You’re as evil as the King!” Revi kicked her in the side.

  Susan sprawled on the ground, her eyes wide with surprise and pain.

  “Everything was fine until you came. I wish Alechjo had never found you. Then he would still be here, and none of this would have happened.” Revi picked up the mangled remains of the knife. “This was a genuine steel blade, forged by townspeople. I traded a whole month’s worth of pelts for it.” She stormed away.

  Susan picked herself up and walked back to the Stone, leaned against one of the triangular sides and slid to the ground. Revi’s right, I am evil. But which evil is worse, killing him, or not killing him? I can’t win. She stared at the sky.

  Her conscious mind went to work on a new swarm program, while moral questions churned just below the surface.

  As the sun sank, Novechjo walked up. “Mommy wants you.”

  Susan stood, took his hand, and they walked toward the tent together. Along the way Novechjo darted off to play with the other children. Susan ducked through the flap.

  Revi sat in the gloom. “I’m sorry, Antikva. The anger came and grabbed me, like a bad spirit.”

  “That was only the beginning of anger. We’re like two children lost in a dark valley. We need each other to get home safely.”

  Revi took a deep breath. “OK.”

  Susan sat on the ground across from her. “The King exposed me to evil. Now the monster is growing inside.” She splayed her fingers like claws. “I want to rip the flesh from his body in little strips.”

  “Good. Take me along to watch.”

  “Revi, don’t tempt me. Help me fight the monster.”

  “Why? What can I do?”

  “If you forgive the King, then I can too.”

  Revi uttered a string of Baseno expletives, most of which were new vocabulary for Susan.

  * * *

  The next day Susan and Kantisto met with the elders. She told them, “My magic may be able to take away the thoughts that trouble Kantisto. He has agreed to try, but there is a chance this could kill him. I need your permission, so no one will condemn me if he dies.”

  Pliajo asked, “Is this true?”

  Kantisto nodded.

  This presented something new for the elders to discuss. Being short on interesting topics, they discussed it for a very long time. Susan wandered off to work with Revi. Near evening they called her back and said, “We accept Kantisto’s decision.”

  After the meal, Susan walked with Kantisto back to his tent. She said, “Lie down and get comfortable. Tell me when you’re ready.”

  He stretched out on his pallet and shifted around several times. Then he shifted some more.

  She knelt. “I prepared some medicine to help you sleep, if you want it.”

  He nodded.

  She muttered, “Esc anesthesia,” and held her breath for a minute while her body cavity synthesized the drug. She leaned toward him with lips parted for a deep kiss.

  His eyes bulged with surprise at this rather erotic method of delivery. Each time he inhaled, she exhaled a puff of sweet-smelling gasses. Gradually his eyes glazed over and fell shut.

  She gently touched the sides of his neck. “Esc Kantisto surgery.”

  Her form froze in place. From her hand spread strands that formed a coarse mesh over the top of his head, like fishnet. At each intersection a tiny cylinder formed and pressed against his skin.

  A blob of swarm found its way into his carotid artery and traveled up to his brain. Each unit surrounded itself with a cell membrane that looked like his own. His immune system would have a difficult time recognizing the intruder.

  Susan’s mind flowed with the swarm. The space all around filled with Kantisto’s brain. She rushed ahead like a general leading an army into battle. It was familiar terrain. Brain science had been her life before the Darkness fell.

  They reached the right area. She commanded the troops to split up, a few here, a few there. They burrowed through the blood-brain barrier and set themselves up. Each unit acted like an astrocyte, a supporting cell of the brain. It formed a little foot on the surface of the blood vessel to draw sustenance.

  The other end sent out tiny filaments that felt their way between his cells, tasting each for the chemical signature of malfunction. When a filament found one, it attached itself and acted like another brain cell. Instead of sending messages, it opened a hole in the membrane and inserted a series of DNA fragments and proteins to correct his genes.

  Susan watched over the process. Even with the powerful sensor network wrapped around his skull, it was not really possible to see inside his cells. Instead, messages coming from the swarm described its actions and things it sensed.

  As the sun rose, she took her hand off his neck. “You can eat and do what you need, but try to stay still most of the time.”

  He reached up to feel the sensor net.

  She swatted his hand away. “Don’t touch that!”

  * * *

  It took a little over a week. Gradually the numbers dropped until it was clear that most of the problem cells had been found. She sent a command to the units inside his brain. They retracted their tendrils and slipped back into his bloodstream. They flowed down his jugular to the arranged meeting place, then crawled out to join the mesh.

  She found him and said, “The magic has finished its work. Let me take it from you now.”

  “But the spirits still attack me!”

  “I have planted a seed in your soul. It will take time to grow.” She reached up to touch the mesh.

  He backed away.

  “Kantisto, be still! You of all people should have faith in the unseen.”

  A new look of understanding came into his eyes. “Yes, Antikva.”

  She gently touched the mesh. It melted away and disappeared into her fingers.

  * * *

  Susan handed Revi a new knife. “This is to replace the one I broke.”

  Revi took it and tried it on a pelt. “Wow, it fits the hand just right for scraping.”

  “I designed
it just for you. The diamond blade is fragile, but it will stay sharp a lot longer.”

  Revi and Susan sat together scraping pelts. Rainy season peaked and started to wane in days full of conversation. Most of the time it was small talk, sometimes silence, and sometimes the pus would flow from their wounds without warning.

  “I still don’t understand. You say you care about me, but you won’t punish the King.”

  “I almost killed him. He was right there in my hand.”

  “What stopped you?”

  “I saw millions of humans suffering.”

  “A vision?”

  “A simple extrapolation. One act of evil opens the door to another, and another. No one is meant to hold this much power. As long as I do nothing, there’s hope I can figure this thing out. I need a measure of goodness, an objective function.”

  “You’re talking gibberish.”

  “There’s no Baseno for it. When the Ancients learned to weave thought, they used numbers to describe what their creations should do. I was created to change the world, but I have no numbers for that. If my mother were here, she would guide me.”

  “You told me you’ve hurt people before.”

  “I don’t pretend to be perfect, Revi. Once I even killed a person.” Susan hung her head in shame. “He was a thought-tool, like me. You see why I’m afraid? Only a fool would trust in her own goodness. I need absolute rules. Pain and death are evil. Pleasure and life are good. No ambiguity, no convenient self-justification.”

  “What about the law of God? The elders say a life for a life.”

  “We only ever hear about the law of God from human beings, usually those who are both religious and military leaders. How do you know those laws really came from God, not merely the leader’s own mind? In one holy book, God tells His people to invade another country and kill everyone, down to the last woman and child. Was that really God speaking, or a history of genocide?

  “My Ancient lover taught me about God. He always talked of kindness and mercy. He actually repaid good to those who hurt us. My mother followed a code of ethics, no matter how much it cost her. When I think of God, all I see are the humans who created me. You are my gods. I made love with the divine and looked upon his face. He took me into his arms, caressed me intimately ...”

  Revi shuddered. “I can’t let a man touch me like that.”

  Susan nodded. “What about Alechjo?”

  Revi closed her eyes. “He still touches me, in my dreams.” She looked up at the sky. “Maybe I feel a little less angry.”

  Susan reached over and touched Revi’s arm. “Let me take away your scars.”

  Revi looked down at the mark passing under Susan’s fingers. “Sure. And while you’re at it, make me look slender and shapely like you.”

  “That’s some serious gene editing, but if you really want to risk it ... why not? Let’s make all those young men eat their hearts out.”

  “Antikva! That’s horrible.”

  “It’s only an expression. It means they’ll wish they had paid attention to you when they had the chance.”

  Susan whispered, “Esc scar removal,” then took her finger off Revi’s arm. “Let’s start with one and see how it goes. It might feel itchy for a few days. Don’t scratch or I’ll smack your hand.”

  Revi looked away. “You won’t change my body too?”

  “I need time to prepare that magic.”

  Unfinished Business

  Year 9, Day 300

  Susan danced up to Revi. “Come here! I want to show you something.”

  Revi put down her diamond blade and followed Susan a few paces away from the edge of camp, near the steep barren side of Stonehill.

  Susan raised her hands up to her shoulders and extended her fingers backward in an awkward gesture. Her legs shrank and her bare feet extended into three long toes with claws. Her fingers extended to an astounding length, and a web of skin spread between them. Her head shrank and lengthened into something like an eagle’s beak. Her hair changed into a streak of red plumage along her back, while her gown vanished into white feathers.

  Revi stared speechless at the animal.

  Susan’s voice came from the creature. “I made myself a bird.” Her wings hunched into a comically human gesture. “Problem is, I don’t know how to fly.”

  Susan spread her wings to full extent, wide enough to embrace two tents. She made a big ponderous attempt at a flap, and a small breeze rushed past Revi. Susan tried again.

  It looked more like the men doing an eagle dance rather than a real bird. Revi burst out laughing.

  “Hey, this is serious. When you leave for the dry-season camp, I’m going on a long journey. I plan to travel in style.”

  “Oh Antikva, I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you too, but I must go to the Eastern Sea.”

  “So far away. Why?”

  “I need to find my mother.”

  “Hasn’t she passed beyond?”

  “A few Ancients stored themselves so they could be brought back to life.”

  Revi’s eyes grew big as saucers. “You will bring her back?”

  “It’s unlikely that her storage place survived the Dark Times, but I need to know for certain.”

  Susan whispered, “Esc human.” Her wings shrank back into arms. Her beak shrank and flattened into a human face. Everything morphed to her usual form. “Thanks for your hospitality, but I probably won’t be much help anymore. I will be giving myself flying lessons—and you’d better not laugh!”

  “Don’t worry about me. A few young men want to take your place.”

  The women looked at each other, then burst into gleeful sniggers. As recipient of the world’s first cosmetic gene surgery, Revi could remain an eyeful into old age. Fat was melting away from her middle and traveling to more convenient locations, or else departing forever.

  * * *

  Flapping was simply not a practical way for a giant bird to take off. Susan’s wings hit the ground before they could do much good. She spent a few days getting the feel for the bird body, then turned her attention to the steep barren slope of the hill.

  With a small crowd gathered to watch the show, she spread her wings and tried not to think about the impending disaster or the laughter of the villagers. She ran on stubby legs to the edge and then down the steep slope. Wind caught the wings and lifted her away. This is great!

  She sailed smoothly down the slope—and crashed headfirst into the stream. The bird lay in a crumpled pile under the rush of chilly mountain water.

  She muttered “Esc pain cancel” and pulled herself back together. She hopped onto the bank, shook off as much water as possible, then picked a way back up the steep slope between stones and scrub. It would have been easier to morph to human, but she was in a foul mood and wanted to indulge in self-punishment.

  The second try went a little better. She took a couple of flaps—before crashing into the trees on the other side of the stream.

  On the tenth try she caught a thermal updraft on the other side of the valley and went soaring beside it. Her soul rose with exhilaration at the glorious freedom of flight.

  The left wing caught a tall tree and whipped her whole body around. The forest canopy made a horrible crackling sound as she crashed down through it. Laying tangled and broken, she uttered a few choice words recently learned from Revi. Then she morphed to human and hiked back. Dinner was nearly over when she got to camp.

  * * *

  Susan stood with a few of her friends near the barren slope of the hill. Behind them, other villagers were busy breaking down camp.

  Kantisto said, “The spirits are quiet now, but I feel sad. I’ve lost my powers.”

  Susan replied, “The only powers you ever truly had are still with you. Your knowledge of plants and stories is your gift.”

  She hugged Revi. “See you next rainy season! Call me any time you feel like talking.”

  She turned and ran toward the edge of the glade. Her legs grew shorter
and fingers extended into wings. A few strides down the slope the bird lifted away. She flapped and flapped, sailing across to the far wall of the valley. Thermals filled the wings and bore her up.

  She headed southeast, following the same path that men had taken the Stone years before. This time the journey went much faster. In five minutes she reached the Ancient road. In another five, she passed over the ruins of the Ancient town at the mouth of the valley.

  She banked eastward, careful to stay along the north wall of the valley. Sun heating rock there produced a constant updraft. Losing lift would make flying a lot more work, and taking off again would be very difficult. Maybe transferring consciousness back to the city would be simpler, but this was good practice for the real journey ahead.

  An hour later she reached the mouth of the tributary. The whole plain of the Long River basin spread out ahead. The rugged mountain peaks that formed the rim called to her. Chefurbo nestled in the middle. On the far side of the river spread vast fields of regularly-spaced dendroids. The swarm covered all available wasteland. Rather than expand any further, they were storing up energy as fat. Some were very fat indeed.

  Infrared vision revealed warm spots in the landscape. Recently harvested fields and small buildings created patches here and there. These were the places where updrafts formed. And for every updraft there had to be an equal amount of air falling over the cold spots. The trick for a bird was to gain enough altitude over one thermal to coast to the next one. She flapped harder and faster, struggling to stay in the air.

  There was the Abbey, marking the outskirts. She descended toward the ziggurat, aiming for the upper part of the stairs. The bird came in higher than expected and grazed over the tops of the pillars, nearly clipping the communication tower. At the last moment she pulled wings in and plummeted over the far side of the mesa, then spread them again to circle around for another try.

  Arriving lower and slower this time, she flipped up the tail and stalled, coming in with a whoosh of air. Feet touched the stone lip of the stairs and she flapped a couple of times to settle.