“The SongLuminants demand that you explain yourself,” the Floatfish had said before my legs fell out from under me. And now it’s here, it and the SongLuminant as well, in Daniel’s room, occupying the same mental space as myself and the other branches. We have no idea how that could be possible. It must be some kind of telepathy.
Explain yourself. I’m not inclined to cooperate, despite the fact that apparently, the fate of all Nau’gsh species hangs in the balance. Explain what?
Ross advises me that everything we say can (and probably will) be used against us.
“Interesting,” says the fish, examining the collected book of testimonies.
You do realize that those were meant for internal use? That is, we were trying to come to some conclusion about Dermot’s actions. They don’t involve you.
What right have you to judge I and I?
“Only Advanced Sentients have rights,” says the fish. “Concerning the lesser species, there is no question of right, simply one of power.”
Why do I have to do this? I ask Ailann.
Because your voice has always represented the people, he says.
But there’s something else he’s not saying.
We’re inside, says Dermot. There’s no outside here. That fish looks like a molly, doesn’t it?
Ah. There’s no way around it, is there? I have to talk. Maybe I’ll start by engaging in contempt of court by stating my contempt for this court. You won’t even talk to my wife. “A savage primate.” Everything I have ever, and will ever, do is for my wife. So I believe I am already condemned.
Nevertheless, I will tell my story. It is neither a defense, nor an apologia. It’s a romance.
If you can’t appreciate that, you aren’t worth my time.
*****
I was created from Evan’s despair. Evan was created from Sloane’s despair. Sloane was created from Daniel’s despair. But Mickey was created from my stubbornness. It was a game-changer. The growth of a new branch is a way of absorbing trauma. It’s rare to be able to do it at will.
Mickey was all kinds of unique. There had been rare occasions when some large Cu’enashti would board a shuttle to Sideria – commutes between the planet and its moon were common, and, of course, we’d want to follow our Chosen, if we could. But I and I flew to Dalgherdia, and Mickey lived there. I’m proud of that, proud because I gave myself up to become Mickey. I knew what needed to be done, and I did it. I knew my strengths and my limitations. I knew my origins.
When Tara left, Evan collapsed. He blamed himself, yet there was probably nothing he could have done. Tara was gone, accepted to study at a university on Earth. Surprisingly, the 5th Matriarch had allowed it. There was so much we didn’t understand, so many motivations, both personal and political, that were hidden from us. All we knew was Evan’s failure and our own disaster. He had been created to be beautiful, refined, sympathetic. It turned out to be a bigger disaster than Sloane’s unstudied reserve.
There was one thing we kept, one gift of Evan’s that seemed to be successful: his voice. I, too, could sing. Evan’s voice is a lovely tenor, an ethereal thread which winds around the madrigals he plays on his fasharp. My voice is a strong baritone. When I was young, when there was only one Jack, I wrote folk-rock, protest songs, power-pop operas. But I’ve lost my edge. Now I sing ballads, and leave rock and roll to my brother.
I had my voice. I used it to start a political movement. It became the voice of my people. Almost every Cu’endhari sings, but none before had understood that a voice could mean money, and power, and access. More than that, it could mean the garnering of sympathy. Human children who grew up singing my songs were unlikely to advocate the burning of our forests.
I never wanted to be the savior of our people any more than Ari wanted to lead the K’ntasari or Ailann wanted to be Archon. We did what we had to do. I was singing to bring Tara back. I couldn’t reach across the stars to her, but maybe my songs could. And when she returned, I had prepared the world to accept her destiny.
I can see that this means nothing to either of you. The SongLuminant hasn’t moved an iota. The fish looks amused.
“My name is Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv,” it says.
Does the SongLuminant have a name? I ask.
The fish responds by belching an enormous green cloud.
They showed up right after we defeated CenGov, says Mickey. In fact, the Floatfish were hanging around while the blockade was going on. Maybe we’ve upset the balance of power, and it’s making them nervous.
It’s a reasonable hypothesis, says Cuinn.
Why don’t you just ask what you want to ask? I say, addressing the Floatfish.
“Oh no. We can’t in any way bias the result. You have to represent yourself to the best of your ability.”
Humans have a certain proverb, says Ross.
“We know,” says Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv, “but as all humans are fools anyway, we can’t see that the selection of legal counsel makes all that much difference.” Tiny donuts of glowing vapor escape his float-bladder, which I interpret as a sort of chuckle.
All right, I say. Why don’t I start at the strategy meeting after Ailann’s speech? It should be clear that our actions were wholly justified.
*****
Cillian never turned up at the meeting. We had a surprise for Tara. “I’m Constantine,” he said.
“Constantine,” she replied. “You’re two days too late – or we could’ve gotten you in at the last wedding. To what do I owe the honor of a new husband?”
“I can file the disclosure addendum myself. I’m a lawyer. I specialize in military law. My brothers are Ross and Cillian.”
“Why do I have the feeling that means trouble?”
Constantine smiled at her. He has a very winning smile, pleasant and confident, like Ross, but there’s a bit of Cillian’s arrogance, his attitude in it. “Because I’m going to disassemble General Panic and use her body-parts for paperweights?”
Do we really want to include that part? says Evan worriedly. Revenge is so…
If I understand correctly, our actions against an inferior species won’t be held against us.
“Only partially correct,” says the Floatfish. “There’s nothing inherently wrong with killing a lower life form. However, gratuitous cruelty is a symptom of psychosis.”
Gratuitous cruelty, like eradicating an entire species because you judge them unworthy?
“Oh no. We consider that to be euthanasia. But do continue.”
Evan wasn’t the only one to notice that Constantine was a bit vengeful. “You’re different from Ross,” said Tara. “Ross specifically wanted Panic to come to trial. He wanted to be vindicated by the law.”
“And so he was. But the law doesn’t apply to General Panic anymore. She was already executed. For all intents and purposes, she’s an AI. The laws concerning the personhood of AIs can be complex – in the IndWorlds, they’re a tangle of individual and sometimes contradictory statutes. But in the Domha’vei…”
“Machines have no rights,” Tara finished. “As long as the AI is completely non-human, it’s property. But something like Panic – transferring the memory of a human being into a completely artificial form – is clearly illegal under the heresy statutes.”
“I would argue that as an AI, she’s just a machine and can be disposed of at will.”
“Interesting. But hadn’t you better set the precedent? I would have her tried as a heretic.”
“A part of me is interested in the legal question. Another part wants to turn her to slag.”
“I don’t know that Cillian’s temperament is of value in a lawyer.”
He laughed. “I think you’ll find me adequate. Ross may be more considered, but in both law and business, there are advantages to sheer aggression. Let’s just put it this way: I don’t intend to lose.”
*****
“Do you believe that as well?” asks the Floatfish. “Do you believe that a species must be organic in order to have rights?”
You’re asking me if I believe my own rhetoric, says Ailann. An interesting question. The answer is complicated. I am nothing if not a pragmatic god. I see nothing in theory against accepting artificial intelligence as a form of sentience. If Tara were a Cybrid, I’d be all for it. But Tara is not a Cybrid. Tara’s people find the combination of the mechanical and the organic to be a violation of nature. And as I believe my purpose is advancing Tara’s destiny, I am committed to whatever philosophy advances her cause.
Weird, says Hurley.
I thought that made perfect sense, says Ailann, a little offended.
No, I mean the SongLuminant. I haven’t been able to read it. But it’s not like a member of CenGov’s Telepathic Division. They have no dreams for me to read. The SongLuminant – it’s like its dreams are redshifted. They’re like pieces of colored glass, like a stained glass window that changes colors in the sunset. But I’m getting used to it now. It’s starting to make sense.
“Really?” says Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv. It’s the first time that the Floatfish has seemed surprised since it arrived on Dolparessa, 24 days ago, pretending to be a diplomat. We all feel a bit foolish about not realizing that it was really a spy working for the SongLuminants. An enormous glowing fish is hardly subtle. “But do continue with your primitive tale of vengeance.”
Tara and Constantine met with the others in the old war cathedral. Before her time, it hadn’t been used in centuries, but for obvious reasons, she was more inclined to conduct official business from the summer palace at Court Emmere rather than the Grand Palace of Vuernaco, her uncle’s capital on Sideria. The cathedral was decorated ornately in the old Dolparessan style, with metallic leaves and branches fused to the places where the walls and ceilings met. Much of Dolparessan art and architecture was obsessed with trees, even long before the human colonists understood the true nature of the Nau’gsh species.
Do you care? Does art matter to you? I have no idea what is relevant in this narrative.
Art has to matter to them, says Hurley. The SongLuminants were really hoping that whales would become the dominant species on Earth because they thought whale-songs were so beautiful.
“Put it all in,” says Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv. “The SongLuminants will pick out what they want.”
I can’t put everything in. That’s insanity. Do you really want to know that the servants didn’t do a good job of getting the dust out of the veins of the leaves? The chemical composition of the dust? What it tastes and smells like? I can provide all that information. My normal sensorium is limited to things potentially relevant to Tara.
“The word everything is rarely interpreted literally.” I’d never seen a fish look exasperated before. “Put in whatever seems important to you.”
Very well. Then I’ll enter Dolparessan art as an exhibit in this trial. In terms of both nature and artifice, Dolparessa is one of the most beautiful places in the galaxy.
“I’ve seen better,” says Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv. “It’s not bad – lots of ocean. But like most habitable moons, the surf is a little rough. Still, it’s much better than wretched Sideria. In order to go there, I have to put on a wetsuit or my scales get debilitatingly dried out.”
I suppose that since you evolved in water, that’s to be expected. Interesting evolutionary leap that your species made to become amphibious.
“Look who is talking. We jumped environments. You jumped an entire kingdom of biological classification. And whoever heard of spacefaring trees?”
Davy created the K’ntasari because it became clear that being rooted in one spot was becoming a liability.
“Being rooted in one spot is the thing that kept you safe,” said Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv. “Minding your own business.”
I assume that your species underwent a similar judgment?
“Oh yes, of course. As will humanity, if they ever get to a level worthy of notice.”
I will take comfort in the fact that a species as annoying as yours somehow made the cut.
The Brrrrrrrrrrrrvvbh laughs, expelling a cloud of green glowing vapor. “Did you ever wonder why there are only nineteen sentient species?”
I thought there were seven. No, eight.
“Two of your seven don’t even count. The SongLuminants have determined that Arya and Cu’endhari Nau’gsh are one evolutionary event, and the Microbials are extinct. The answer is that there have been 40 sentient species over the past nine billion years. Four of them have become extinct due to their own follies. Six of them have been destroyed by one of the others – the Microbials are included in that tally. Eleven have been erased by the SongLuminants as problematic.”
They didn’t get the Microbials, says Cillian. Not too fucking efficient, seeing that I had to do the dirty work.
“The Microbials weren’t considered a problem. They didn’t go after Advanced Sentients. They didn’t bother us.”
And our destruction of the Microbials didn’t trigger this sort of review?
“How many times will I have to say this? Genocide isn’t really an issue, of itself. It all depends on who you wipe out. Otherwise, we’d have had to purge the Earth over dodo birds. But since humanity and Microbials were both beneath notice, who cared if they killed each other off?”
You have no right to judge us, says Ailann. Your ethics are questionable.
Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv’s eyes bulge slightly. He belches an electric olivine cloud. “Ethics. What a quaint concept. The SongLuminants will not reach judgment on any principle as flimsy and debatable as ethics. They are wholly pragmatic. The question is a simple one. A sentient species becomes a problem only when it reaches a certain level of power. A sentient species has something to contribute only when it reaches a certain level of power. So the question is whether the Nau’gsh are worth the risk. The SongLuminants have been doing this for longer than memory – from before your sun and Earth’s sun were clouds of clumping plasma. They have an elaborate scoring system which includes neither ethics nor personal affinities. So feel free to be as obnoxious as you like. But get on with your narrative.”
It would really be more reassuring if you would stop laughing. The room is filling with phosphorescent gasses. It’s distracting.
“I apologize. I’ll try to conceal my amusement.” Somehow, he didn’t seem sincere. Perhaps it was the way he flicked his tail.
*****
“Cuinn suggested that we use the AI at RR-2 Labs to run a few simulations,” said Constantine. “The most likely scenario is that they’re going to drop more singularities. It took all of the Archon’s power to deal with one of them. If they drop five, at exactly the right spacetime coordinates…”
“Can they possibly have five of them?” Tara asked. “I’m just imagining the production costs, and the difficulty of transport.”
“It would be very difficult,” said Clive Rivers, “but within their capabilities. Tara, I think you underestimate both the threat that the Domha’vei now poses and the value of the system to CenGov. You’re sitting on a technology that releases potentially limitless power. If CenGov ever understood the crystals…”
“We don’t understand the crystals,” said Tara. “Whatever the 4th Matriarch did remains a secret.”
“It’s a priority for CenGov. Do you think Traeger knew about the mine by accident? We lucked out that he was a member of the telepathic resistance, and they saw a different use for the crystals.”
“If you can call it lucky,” said Constantine. “The mine was destroyed. If CenGov were to release five singularities, the problem wouldn’t be lack of power. We can draw double the power now, with the addition of the Goliath Tree. The problem is the grid. We had to use almost all the spare crystals we had to replace the ones that were damaged when Ailann dealt with the singularity. The advantage of Goliath isn’t just that it doubled our access to the nul-universe – it’s that having two nodes allows us to reroute the energy path somewhat, taking the stress off the crystals closest to Dolparessa which have been in constant use.”
*****
Well fuck me with a chocumber, Cuinn says. I was just thinking about that yesterday. I finally realized that the 4th Matriarch couldn’t have created the crystals. It was beyond human technology – it still is. Duh.
“You get today’s special bonus prize,” says Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv. “I believe that it’s long been a subject of speculation how a world as perfect for habitation as Skarsia lacked a dominant species?”
Yeah, that was a big part of it, said Cuinn. The fact that Dolparessa has exactly the same rotational period as Skarsia – when by all rights, it should be tide locked. So I went looking for a reason – and I found it. There’s another network of crystals far below the surface of Dolparessa controlling its rotation. It was skarsiaformed. They probably fixed the atmosphere, too.
I understood. The prior inhabitants of the system discovered how to use the Skarsium crystals to manipulate the nul-energy – and the SongLuminants erased them.
“Except the SongLuminants missed getting rid of the mine. It was an oversight. But it was not a huge issue. The system was uninhabited, except for a bunch of philosophizing trees that shouldn’t have existed in the first place. No one imagined that the trees would develop a technology.”
Then why didn’t the SongLuminants call humanity to judgment when the 4th Matriarch discovered the crystals? asked Cuinn.
“Honestly, you must think that the SongLuminants enjoy erasing species. At first, it was determined that her discovery of the crystals wasn’t a problem because she didn’t know what to do with them. And she never would have known if the Arya, scared out of their needles that she would terraform Dolparessa, hadn’t told her. But even that wasn’t a big problem because the Arya were limited to the Domha’vei. Neither humanity nor the Arya seemed likely to become a threat in the immediate future. Your people didn’t even evolve until the colonists came. As we’ve seen, it was a rare miscalculation on the SongLuminants’ part.”
I’m going to get back to the story. Tara won’t understand why I suddenly collapsed, and it’s bound to upset her. We need to get this over with as soon as possible.
“Tara, Tara, Tara,” said the fish. “The fate of your whole species is at question, and all you think about is whether your reproductive partner is worried about you.”
Yes.
“I’m searching for the proper human idiom of disgust combined with incredulity. Will ‘Jesus Christ on a photon unicycle’ do?”
I don’t expect you to understand. Unlike both trees and humans, fertilization does not even take place within your bodies. You have no capacity for sexual pleasure, nor have you developed the concept of pair bonding.
“We’ve also skipped the concept of ugly divorce trials,” says Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv. “Child support payments. Paternity suits. Prostitution. But enough about my people. We’ve already been judged worthy. Or harmless. Pretty much adds up to the same.”
It’s interesting, mused Dermot. I’d never considered the point before. But in a reproductive sense, and therefore, an emotional one, trees function much more like mammals than some other animal classes. Even among the tetrapoda. It wasn’t an accident that our ancestors first played with squirrel bodies and not frogtile ones.
By that logic, says Cuinn, wouldn’t an avion have made more sense? A seed is more like an egg.
I think squirrels were more fun, says Hurley.
Fun my ass, says Cillian. The truth is that squirrels are territorial, and if we took squirrel bodies, we could keep them off our fucking trees. Then the little compost-snorters couldn’t rip up our bark with their talons or crap all over our leaves.
This is all speculation, I say. It’s like asking a human who decided that they should have five fingers.
I decided that the K’ntasari should have six, says Davy. Two thumbs is a more effective design.
Yes, but it caused trouble. Political trouble. You know that extreme genework is illegal in the Domha’vei. Playing around with insignificant details, like the color of a pony’s mane, is allowed, but a unicorn is not. It goes back to the conservatism of the Five Nations.
It wasn’t that bad, says Patrick. Those laws should probably be revised. The first colonists weren’t used to anything alien. Popular sentiment currently sees the dichotomy between CenGov and the Domha’vei as machine vs. organic, not non-human vs. human. Why shouldn’t people be allowed to have six arms?
Two thumbs caused enough of a backlash, I reply. Tara doesn’t need more trouble.
I can’t guarantee freedom from political trouble, says Davy. All I can guarantee is that what I create won’t screw up any ecosystem that it lands in.
Tell us what you’ve created, Davy, urged Hurley.
Um…well, there’s fleshiwood, but I don’t know that it counts since it isn’t really alive. The blue angel moth. Firebirds. Pocket puppies. One flying sucksow, but that didn’t end up being a great idea, so we barbequed it. Those eternium tara flowers I gave her for our marriage. The golden lilies, too. Cuinn and I worked on the javamelon together, but I did the chocumber myself. I’m especially proud of that one. Not only is it a great bean-free dessert food, it’s also perfect as a sex toy. And then Eden. I did the whole ecosystem for Eden. I’m not entirely happy with it, though. Not enough biodiversity. I’m still tweaking it. I’d have come up with a whole bunch of new species if we weren’t distracted by stupid wars.
That just scored a lot of points, says Hurley.
Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv twitched his dorsal fin in the fashion of his people to indicate agreement. “If a species is inclined to play around with genetics, it’s important that they can do so without unpleasant ramifications. Species 14 wiped themselves out with a genetically engineered plague, and Species 25 created bioweapons so virulent, it provoked their erasure.”
Species 14 and 25?
“Yes, well, there’s no real point in sentimentalizing them by trying to remember their names. Erasure is complete. Except little things that slip by, like the Skarsium mine.”
I’m done, I say. I won’t even speak to these things anymore. I’m going to write a ballad about Species 14 and 25. I’ll come up with names for them.
“Don’t fillet the messenger,” says Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv.