It was mid-afternoon of the next day by the time I and I returned to Dalgherdia. It had been a short flight, and although He could’ve used the newly installed power hub to travel near-instantaneously between the two neighboring asteroids, he had craved the peaceful silence of space.
As far as we know, there has never been another Cu’enashti who felt anything but horror at the peaceful silence of space. We’d been thinking a lot about that crazy message Wyrd Elma had sent to the Cantor, the one that had been intercepted by Roger, the RR-2 AI. Elma had claimed that I and I wasn’t really Cu’enashti, but a member of a species which had evolved in parallel. We didn’t know what to make of it. Our first impulse was to dismiss it as crazy talk – Wyrd Elma certainly did enough of that. But the more we thought about it, the more it made a disturbing kind of sense. Weirder still, I and I wanted to publish it.
Before this mess with Lilith started, we had been in the process of editing a series of documents concerning our invitation to join the Combine of Advanced Sentients. At some point, we reasoned, total disclosure would be the best option. Now, we were starting to feel that it should be sooner than later, given the contents of that history lecture. Humanity had to get its act straight – fast.
Of course, Rudimentary Sentients weren’t supposed to know anything about the scoring system used by the Lords of the Inner Vent. As if the Hreck weren’t being totally coached. As if the StoneStolids hadn’t paved the way for the Quicknodes.
Um, could “paved the way” be interpreted as an ethnic slur? asked Evan.
Wow. I didn’t intend it that way. I’m going to have to watch what I say.
Jaysus Juniper sitting on an antimatter exhaust drain, said Cillian. Maybe BJ ought to stop singing because rock and roll* could be interpreted as an ethnic slur.
I doubt it, said Evan. The “rock” in “rock and roll” is a verb, and has nothing to do with minerals. It would be completely lost in translation to the StoneStolid language.
But does anybody really know what gets translated directly into the StoneStolid language? asked Dermot. If they’re communicating electrochemically, maybe Lucius could learn to speak to them directly, like he can with the SongLuminants.
Mickey cleared his throat. I believe that Tommy was in the process of completing a piece of introductory prose, he said.
Oh, right. Anyway, my point was that we were starting to get a sense of the politics of the group, and the logic hidden under the rug was clear: no matter what the rules say, if we want you to be in, you’re in. The Hreck were useful to the SongLuminants. The Quicknodes were useful, maybe essential, to the StoneStolids. And the Cu’enashti Nau’gsh couldn’t survive without their human Chosen. Therefore, I and I was damn well going to make sure humanity passed with large trumpets and fritters.
*****
Tara wasn’t at the hotel when I and I arrived there, but she was sure to have seen him. It’s hard to miss a giant glowing blue moth-angel descending from the sky.
He folded into Aran. Aran poured himself a drink and waited.
Tara returned soon after. “Didn’t you have a meeting with…” Aran began.
“Fuck meetings. I’m glad to see it’s you.”
“You are?”
“This close to Eden, you’re the most powerful. I don’t want Ash taking any risks, not after the other night. We’re going back to Dolparessa tomorrow.”
“And what about the dinner for the…”
“I’ll cancel it. Unless you really fancy watching the tile floor being fixed at Tom O’Bedlam’s, what’s the point of staying? Lilith and Esau aren’t going to make a move now, if they’re smart.” Tara eased into a chair. “Brush my hair, would you, Aran?”
“Not that I object, but it is no longer necessary to coddle me. Tarlach’s therapy is working quite well.”
“Then maybe I want to be coddled.”
Tell Tara that we should hunt them down now, said Mickey. Dalgherdia isn’t a big place, and there isn’t that much traffic. They can’t leave without our noticing it. Tell her…
No, said Aran.
What do you mean, no?
She wants to leave. She’s upset. She’s been upset for days.
This is serious, Aran. This could be our best chance.
No. We Goliath emanations don’t have the same obsession with her destiny. She wants to go home.
Maybe we should vote, suggested Patrick.
I’ll ignore the result, said Aran. I’m the Archon. You can’t vote against me.
I’ve learned from painful experience that it comes down to the will of the Mover, said Ari. If he wants us to stay, tomorrow Tara will wake up with Mickey. And if he doesn’t, Aran will still be here.
Why don’t you all just shut up, said Aran, and appreciate the silken weight of her hair in my hands?
For a few minutes, all was quiet. Tara leaned back, relaxing into Aran. “You aren’t going to fight me on this?” she said.
“Our safety is paramount. For the moment, we’re safest either on Eden or Dolparessa, close to one of our trees.” Aran knelt by her side, taking her hand between his and pressing it against his face. “Also, I may be a poor choice for Archon, but I’d prefer to spend the time quietly with you than at some foolish ceremonial function.”
That’s not fair, said Ailann. We’d all rather do that. Sometimes other necessities have to be put first.
Like Cillian’s revenge on Esau? said Aran.
There was a moment of awkward silence. He might have a point, said Dermot.
Fuck off, said Cillian.
It’s all right, Cillian, said Constantine. It’s better not to be hasty. I’ll come up with a plan.
Is that all you do? asked Evan. Avenge your brothers?
It’s good that someone still cares about brotherhood, said Lugh.
Lugh, don’t you think that was a little uncalled for? asked Patrick.
Fuck off, said Lugh.
It seems not one of you is capable of understanding the most basic thing, said Aran. However strong she might seem, Tara is on the verge of a breakdown. Twice she believed us dead, and then we left her alone for several years. The incident with Seth brought it all back. This isn’t a matter of her happiness. It’s a matter of her sanity.
He’s right, said Tarlach. And I can’t believe I never saw it.
You never saw it, said Aran, because the priorities refer to “Tara’s safety” as if it concerns nothing but her physical form.
Then let’s change the priorities, said Ailann.
Can we do that? asked Manasseh?
We did it before, said Patrick, when we added our own safety as priority two.
Let’s change the first priority to say “Tara’s well-being,” said Ailann. That will cover both physical and emotional health.
The vote is unanimous, said Patrick. Even Lorcan agrees.
I love her, said Lorcan. Nobody seems to appreciate that.
Tara arose from her chair. “Aran, we never really had much time to spend together. Well, we had a few days when you first emanated, but those were rough…”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer not to dwell on that.” Aran touched her face. Her skin was so soft, almost as soft as it had been when she was a girl, when it was like newly unfurled petals. She tilted her head towards him. “Shall I kiss you?” he asked.
I became aware of an almost inaudible sobbing. To my surprise, it was Lorcan.
*****
We had been back on Dolparessa for almost a week, and the status quo had not changed. There could be no clearer signal: I and I did not want us to pursue Lilith. Indeed, Aran, who, between circumstances and his own ineptness could formerly do no right, could now seem to do no wrong. Romance was in the air.
Ari sulked. Apparently, Tara had overcome her obsession with him.
Don’t sweat it, Whirljack advised. It’s better to wait until she misses you. The worst thing would be to get played out.
I think that’s what happened in my case, said Patrick. I was so useful politically that I was always around, and she just got tired of me.
Now I have to stop right here and say that’s ridiculous. Patrick is her favorite, and everybody knows it.
I thought Ailann was her favorite, said Lorcan. When it’s not Daniel. Of course, since Aran was made from Ailann and Patrick, he really could be her new favorite. Bitch.
It’s time for me to pound Lorcan into the ground again, isn’t it? said Cillian.
You’ll only validate his sense of alienation, said Tarlach.
I agree, said Seth, which is why I’ve come to the conclusion that Lorcan isn’t really evil. He’d like to be, but he’s simply bitter. He takes pleasure in pain because his own pain is so boundless. In the end, he’s still capable of love and incapable of killing.
Lorcan turned coolly to Seth. For a Cu’enashti, n’aashet n’aaverti is the ultimate moral standard. Isn’t that what Dermot said? So the fact that I love Jamey is the manifestation of my evil.
The fact that you love Jamey is irrelevant, said Seth, since you still love Tara more, enough to be jealous of Aran. By that standard, you’re not evil. Lugh is evil.
Take that back, said Owen. Take it back or I’ll…
Aw holy compost, said Cillian. Let’s just not talk about this.
Let’s talk about the new galaxies instead, said Cüinn. Owen and I have designed a series of experiments, haven’t we, Owen…?
But Owen refused to be distracted. Take it back, he snapped.
Why the fuck do you care? said Lugh. I’m the goddam pariah around here. It seems like we need a new one, since Ross has been redeemed.
That’s really low, you sick bastard, said Constantine. Ross didn’t need redemption. Ross needed understanding. Ross needed all of you to stop being dicks.
It’s okay, said Ross. It’s all water under the roots.
That’s how brothers ought to behave, said Whirljack. They’ve got each other’s backs, but they aren’t…
…on each other’s backs, finished BJ with a smirk. But only because it’s physically impossible for them. They’re only half-brothers. They can’t emanate at the same time. If they could, Tara would have them in a threesome faster than a leaf can fall.
Actually, said Callum, I’m supposed to be the pariah. For Lugh to take that role is completely fucked up.
Why are you the pariah? asked Manasseh. You seem completely normal to me, except for the blue hair.
He’s not the pariah, said Lorcan. He only wants to be the pariah.
Like you, poser, Callum shot back.
While this stupid sniping was going on, Tara and Aran were in the poison garden, having a drink together. “Sometimes I envy you,” said Aran. “It must be so peaceful to be the only one inside of your head.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t mind being inside of yours,” said Tara. Aran raised a curious eyebrow. “Well, I could finally take complete advantage of my harem if I were.”
Whoa, said Cillian.
She sure is kinky, said Blackjack appreciatively.
And then we’d all just fight over her, said Lorcan. You’re all a bunch of idiots.
We could take turns, said Thomas. I’m sure we’d figure out something.
I’m not entirely certain that using n’aashet n’aaverti as the ultimate standard addresses the problem of evil satisfactorily, Seth said, returning to his favorite topic.
That was even more random than Cüinn, I said. Why think about evil when you can think about an orgy with Tara?
Seth, said Lucius, I have the feeling that the Floatfish would find you hilarious. And I’d think that they were right. Why are you so hung up on this? The concept of evil is a matter of cultural relativity. It has no objective reality whatsoever. The most evil thing we can imagine would have to be the Ateher *hissclick* Masock. And yet they’ve kept the SongLuminants from wiping out Species 11. I’m not even certain erasure is a bad idea anymore. We erased the Microbials.
Because the Microbials were gonna erase us, said Cillian. Self-defense.
Well, I think we can all rest easier that the Great Dread no longer exists, Lucius continued. Species 10 and 25 didn’t exactly sound like good neighbors, either.
But there were a number of species, including the original inhabitants of the Domha’vei, who may not have provoked their own destruction, said Seth. Because evil occasionally performs a useful action, it does not negate the fact that it is evil.
Are you saying that the SongLuminants are evil? asked Lucius.
I’m entertaining that concept, said Seth.
I don’t have to entertain it, said Whirljack. The SongLuminants are evil.
That’s a dangerous way of thinking, retorted Lucius. It’s intolerance. We can’t judge everyone by our own standards.
Isn’t that exactly what the SongLuminants do? said Whirljack.
Judging from that history lecture, injected Tarlach, I think that the SongLuminants have been traumatized by events of a magnitude that we cannot comprehend. It’s difficult to know whether they are being wise or merely defensive, but they deserve our compassion.
Fuck that, said Cillian. How many billions of years have they had to get over it?
They think that compassion is irrelevant, and understanding impossible, said Whirljack.
None of this has anything to do with Tara, said Ari. I’d expect this sort of cocked up thinking from the Atlas emanations, but Seth and Lucius should be ashamed of themselves.
Sometimes you have to look beyond the forest to see the lumberjack coming, said Lucius.
Wow, Cüinn exclaimed, that’s awesome! That really inspires me. I’m going to make a motivational poster.
Oh no, not again, said Cillian.
Why doesn’t anyone ever take my artistic endeavors seriously? Cüinn sulked.
Because you fail to differentiate between high art and low art, said Driscoll. Because you lack the ironic sensibility to lift pop art out of its realm. Because motivational posters, like other ancient forms such as haiku and sonnets, easily become trite due to the inherent sentimentality of archaism.
So you’re saying that sentimentality makes for bad art? said Lucius. I think the SongLuminants would agree.
We don’t know what the fuck the SongLuminants consider bad art, said Cillian. Hey Lucius, if you’re going to be in any more poetry contests, maybe I’d better read up on SongLuminant literary theory.
Meanwhile, Tara and Aran were still in the garden. He was holding her hand, and her head rested gently upon his shoulder. It was becoming evening, and the fading light gave her skin a rosy glow. My heart was moved, and I felt like singing.
Love and beauty inspire art, said Cüinn. Only some forms of art get more respect than others.
“Sometimes, I can’t even begin to understand my other selves,” Aran was saying. “We seem to get distracted by the most trivial things and ignore the most significant ones.”
“But that’s who you are,” said Tara. “I think it’s far clearer to your people than mine that having only one perspective is limiting. You use all those dissenting voices as a means of interpreting the world.”
The SongLuminants said we scored high on adaptability, said Lucius.
“That’s certainly true,” Aran replied, “but I wish we had a better means of…well, of seeing the forest from the trees, if you pardon the expression. Like right now, both Lorcan and Lugh seem to be in a lot of distress, and everyone is just ignoring it.”
We always ignore Lorcan, said Cillian. What’s the point of paying attention to him?
“Lugh? He’s not still freaking out over Owen, is he? I told him I didn’t mind.”
“They’ve…I suppose the best description is broken up. Owen went to Tarlach to get therapy to become normal.”
“Like Clive had therapy to make him normal? That kind of thing never works – or I should say that sometimes it does, but it throws everything else out of joint. The mind is like an ecosystem. You can’t just write over one part of it and expect that the rest of it will be all right. That’s one of the reasons I won’t let Ash consider emanations as disposable. He’d lose a vital part of himself.”
“Even when an emanation was created to be broken? Like Lorcan – or even Suibhne?”
What, what? How did Suibhne get dragged into this? said Suibhne, looking up from his game of toy soldiers with Davy.
“Their brokenness – if that’s what it is – serves a purpose. In the end I forgave Davy and Dermot not only because they were acting in what they saw as my best interest, but because they couldn’t help themselves. If I had to blame someone, it should be Ash. If Lorcan and Suibhne are messed up, Ash has a reason.”
“So you don’t think Owen should have the therapy? It helped me enormously.”
“But you were miserable. Owen and Lugh were perfectly happy. You know, when I read over the testimonies that all of you gave to the SongLuminants, the only one that made any sense to me was Lugh’s. The rest of you were acting like it was a joke, or a game – which I suppose it was – but the stakes were way too high. Lugh was freaking out. You should’ve been freaking out. I’d feel better if I knew, in situations like that, you were freaking out.”
“Freaking out, as you put it, would have served no good purpose and would probably have been to our detriment.”
But wait, said Malachi. She has a point. Although she’d been in a happy threesome with Whirljack and Blackjack for some time…
Acceptable, not happy, said Whirljack. I put up with it for her sake.
Sure, said Blackjack. We all believe that.
Malachi ignored them and continued: Lugh and Owen didn’t approach her on the topic until after Patrick was visited by the alternate-Tara from the future, and had to make the decision of whether or not to save the Atlas Tree from the terrorist attack. If you recall, that was when Tara got so angry and insisted that we change the priorities to include self-preservation.
Dermot jumped into the discussion. If Tara is right – and I believe she is – that each one of us is a vital part of I and I’s psyche, then Lugh, a redundant emanation since he was created to replace Owen, who had been grafted back onto the tree, took on a new function: the personification of a self-preservation instinct that formerly did not exist.
And consider, said Malachi, that we’ve been getting into horrible situations – from Seth’s near-mortal wound to Lucius’ exhaustion – ever since Lugh and Owen have been fighting.
That has two important implications, said Tarlach. First, that an emanation created to serve one purpose can grow in another direction once that purpose is fulfilled. Nothing is wasted – which has definite implications for Suibhne and Lorcan. Second, that Lugh isn’t a diseased pervert. I and I intended him to feel the way he does.
There was a moment of silence. Looks like we fucked it up again, said Cillian, just like we did with Ross. I’m sorry, Lugh.
No, said Owen, I’m the one who screwed up. I gave in to peer pressure when I should’ve stood up for the branch I loved.
Do you think I’d take you back, just like that? said Lugh.
I’ll make it up to you, said Owen. It’ll be just like it was before.
Don’t be an idiot, said Daniel. We looked at him in shock. Daniel is pretty quiet, and he never says anything this harsh.
Nothing can ever be just like it was before, he said.
But it can grow in a new direction, said Tarlach, if you only give it a chance.
*The anglo term “rock and roll” has proved remarkably resilient through the ages. However, the Galactic Standard pronunciation of it is closer to its usage in 21st century Japanese – trans.