I’m going to stay in control for a bit, because the minute Ailann gets back, he’ll go on an enormous bender. It’s not like he needed anything more on his plate.
To the damn Brrrrrrrrrrrrvvbh, it was all a colossal joke. I suppose it would have to be. How else could they so casually dismiss the fate of an entire species?
And they treated their guardianship of humanity as a joke too, because they didn’t care. But Ailann cares. And Ailann has got to convince everybody that he’s God for real now, including CenGov and the IndWorlds. Because if he doesn’t, and they rebel, the SongLuminants will take them out. Humans are allowed to kill each other, and the eight other “rudimentary sentients,” all they like, but if they turn on one of the ASSes, that’s the end. That’s why RS species are only allowed contact with their guardians. That’s why we didn’t know about any of the other species in the Combine.
ASSes. Did they choose that acronym on purpose? Probably. A pretty sophisticated manipulation of human language, that. Seven species in the Combine – no, eight, now, including us. Five new species more advanced than the Mover, species that we know nothing about.
It’s exciting! And yet…suddenly, the Mover is the sapling in the forest. And He’s supposed to keep an eye on all of humanity without leaving the Domha’vei.
I know how to do it. I can project my consciousness into the K’ntasari. Unfortunately, I can’t project my alchemical ability that way. In order for Ailann to expand our empire, Cuinn and Owen are going to have to work out that plan for laying crystals across trans-universal shipping routes. But for the meantime, this will have to do.
For the meantime…we’ll hope that we can get CenGov to back off Tasea. After the defeat of the armada, Governor Tellick wanted to completely cease hostilities, but apparently there are more hawkish factions back home. So for now, the war continues, although it’s a war without battles, a war which everyone pretty much ignores. More of a mutual snubbing.
As for Tasea, Cara’s been doing a great job with the insurgency. But if we have to go there, it will be a mess. Confronting the CenGov fleet with ours, even though their fleet is severely depleted, isn’t a sure bet by a long shot. We’ll be better off sneaking in a bunch of K’ntasari troops to make life miserable for the invaders on the ground. Using K’ntasari is probably the safest idea considering that the SongLuminants would probably interpret it as a squabble between two RS species, and none of their concern.
It’s funny, though. The SongLuminants didn’t once try to communicate with the Mover directly. Perhaps because they spoke through puppets, they assumed that He was doing the same? Clearly they didn’t understand at all.
Understanding, apparently, is overrated. Well, I don’t think so. Maybe it’s Tarlach’s part of me, but I think it’s essential that we try, even in a limited way.
I’m trying. I feel the bubbles forming on the surface of my skin, thousands of pinpricks of light in a shimmering matrix. It’s in the flicker the intelligence lies, not dissimilar to the electrochemical patters of thought in a human brain.
It’s not foreign to me. The Mover is also a being of pure energy. It’s more difficult for that sort of being to understand what it means to be flesh. The SongLuminants faked it. The Cu’endhari did it. That means, in the long run, we’ll win. I wonder if they understood that. If so, do they care? Completely unsentimental. If they thought the Cu’endhari had outpaced them, and that they stood in our way, they would probably erase themselves.
I should mention the content of my brief conversation with the SongLuminant. I asked it what the Floatfish saw when it looked outside at the fields. The SongLuminant replied The place of sinking. The end of life. Many obstacles that are damaging if touched. Then I asked what it would see if it had taken a human form. It said A place of nourishment and rest. Source of food and mineral wealth. Falling victim to gravity, or giving up to it.
I said I saw the blue ambit. I saw Tara’s homeland.
It said You will always be limited by being tied to her perspective.
I said that I didn’t understand how it could preserve any sense of self without a reference point.
The concept of self is irrelevant to the Lords of the Vent it said.
Tara enters, and I understand what it means to be flesh. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’ve been thinking of things other than you.”
“No need to apologize. It’s unusual, though, isn’t it?”
“I suppose that the fate of your species tangentially affects your destiny.”
“I think that’s a safe bet.” She’s smiling, but it’s strained. “Lucius, I don’t mean to be rude, but could you please stop glowing?”
“Oh!” I hadn’t taken it under consideration. But if I’m going to touch her, the bubbles will have to go.
I’d like to touch her.
She looks exhausted. It’s cause for concern. As the bubbles dissipate, I gently brush my fingers against her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, I’m fine. All’s well that ends well, right?”
“You’re not fine.”
“I thought I was going to lose you. And those fucking fish, those fucking bubbleheads…”
“I know. But they won’t be in control forever. The SongLuminants missed the point when they dismissed love as mere sentimentality. It isn’t just understanding. It’s embracing that understanding. To look into the face of the unknown and accept it. How else can we grow? Roots and branches reaching into space, into the earth, reaching in blind certainty because we can feel the life there. Someday, we’ll grow beyond them, Tara, because we’re inspired by love.”
She sits next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. “Lucius,” she says, “someday we’ll be lovers, Lucius.”
“Of course,” I say. “But there’s a comfort in familiarity, too. When you return from your bath, I won’t be here. Probably Ailann. You’ll need to talk about how to deal with all this.”
She nods, rising. “I accept it,” she says. “Whatever you become, Ash, I accept it.”
She stops in the doorway. All the light in the room gathers itself into her. I can’t exactly ask her to stop glowing, though. I don’t really want to.
“It isn’t enough,” she says. “Someday, you’re going to have to challenge the SongLuminants, isn’t that what you’re telling me? And in order to do that, you’ll need to change. And in order for you to change, I’ll have to. So tell me,” she says, glancing back at me over her shoulder, “is Ash in love with my destiny for its own sake, or because it’s the only way he can fulfill his own potential?”
I don’t know the answer. I think perhaps there isn’t one. “When Atlas was a seed, it didn’t sit around thinking which sun shall I choose and why? The sun woke it into life, and it grew. Had it grown in deep forest, it would have enormous leaves capable of drinking every drop of sunlight. Has it grown in the desert, it would’ve grown tiny leaves to keep the moisture from evaporating. But a seed doesn’t choose where it falls. It grew in rock, on the side of a cliff above the ocean, and so its roots are deeper and stronger than any other Nau’gsh on Dolparessa, and so its taproot draws more strength from the nul-universe, and so it became Archon.”
“That’s a tree’s answer. But what’s the mothman’s answer?”
Surprisingly, I get a response. A wordless answer, but an impulse of overwhelming strength. And the words come without my thinking of them. “You planted the seed.”