“By analyzing the results of each experimental habitat, the noble Buyur will know exactly how to implement a new realm of magic and wonders. Then the age of the true miracles can begin.”
Listening to this, Peepoe shook her head.
“You don’t sound much like a rustic feudal magician. I just bet you’re something else, in disguise.
“Are you a Buyur?”
The g’Kek bowed within its crystal shell. “That’s a very good guess, my dolphin friend. Though of course the real truth is complicated. A real Buyur would weigh more than a metric ton and somewhat resemble an Earthling frog!”
“Nevertheless you—” Tkett prompted.
“I have the honor of serving as a spokesman-intermediary.…”
“…to help persuade you dolphins—the newest promising colonists on Jijo—that joining us will be your greatest opportunity for vividness, adventure, and a destiny filled with marvels!”
The little human wizard grinned, and Peepoe realized that the others nearby must not have heard or understood a bit of it. Perhaps they wore earplugs to protect themselves against the power of the mage’s words. Or else Anglic was rarely spoken, here. Perhaps it was a “language of power.”
Peepoe also realized—she was both being tested and offered a choice.
Out there in the world, we few dolphin settlers face an uncertain existence. Makanee has no surety that our little pod of reverts will survive the next winter, even with help from the other colonists ashore. Anyway, the Six Races have troubles of their own, fighting Jophur invaders.
She had to admit that this offer had tempting aspects. After experiencing several recent Jijo storms, Peepoe could see the attraction of bringing all the other Streaker exiles aboard some cozy undersea habitat—presumably one with bigger stretches of open water—and letting the Buyur perform whatever technomagic it took to reduce dolphins in size so they would fit their new lives. How could that be any worse than the three years of cramped hell they had all endured aboard poor Streaker?
Presumably someday, when the experiments were over, her descendants would be given back their true size, after they had spent generations learning to weave spells and cast incantations with the best of them.
Oh, we could manage that, she thought. We dolphins are good at certain artistic types of verbal expression. After all, what is Trinary but our own special method of using sound to persuade the world? Talking it into assuming vivid sonic echoes and dreamlike shapes? Coaxing it to make sense in our own cetacean way?
The delicious temptation of it all reached out to Peepoe.
What is the alternative? Assuming we ever find a way back to civilization, what would we go home to? A gritty fate that at best offers lots of hard work, where it can take half a lifetime just to learn the skills you need to function usefully in a technological society.
Real life isn’t half as nice as the tales we first hear in storybooks. Everybody learns at some point that it’s a disappointing world out there—a universe where good is seldom purely handsome and evil doesn’t obligingly identify itself with red glowing eyes. A complex society filled with trade-offs and compromises, as well as committees and political opponents who always have much more power than you think they deserve.
Who wouldn’t prefer a place where the cosmos might be talked into giving you what you want? Or where wishing sometimes makes things true?
“We already have two volunteers from your esteemed race,” the g’Kek spokesman explained, causing Tkett to quiver in surprise. With a flailing of eyestalks, the wheeled figure commanded that a hologram appear, just above the water’s surface.
Tkett at once saw two large male dolphins lying calmly on mesh hammocks while tiny machines scurried all over them, spinning webs of some luminescent material. Chissis, long-silent and brooding, abruptly recognized the pair, and shouted Primal recognition.
# Caught! Caught in nets as they deserved!
# Foolish Zhaki—Nasty Mopol! #
“Ifni!” Tkett commented. “I think you’re right. But what’s being done to them?”
“They have already accepted our offer,” said the little wheeled intermediary.
“Soon those two will dwell in realms of holographic and sensual delights, aboard a different experimental station than this one. Their destiny is assured, and let me promise you—they will be happy.”
“You’re sure those two aren’t here aboard this vessel, near me?” Peepoe asked nervously, watching Zhaki and Mopol undergo their transformation via a small image that the magician had conjured with a magic phrase and a wave of one hand.
“No. Your associates followed a lure to one of our neighboring experimental cells—to their senses it appeared to be a ‘leviathan’ resembling one of your Earthling blue whales. Once they had come aboard, preliminary appraisal showed that their personalities will probably thrive best in a world of pure fantasy.
“They eagerly accepted this proposal.”
Peepoe nodded, shocked only at her own lack of emotion—either positive or negative—toward this final disposal of her tormentors. They were gone from her life, and that was all she really cared about. Let Ifni decide whether their destination qualified as permanent imprisonment, or a strange kind of heaven.
Well, now they can have harems of willing cows, to their hearts’ content, she thought. Good riddance.
Anyway, she had other quandaries to focus on, closer at hand.
“What’ve you got p-planned for me?”
The gray wizard spread his arms in eager consolation.
“Nothing frightening or worrisome, oh esteemed dolphin-friend! At this point we are simply asking that you choose!
“Will you join us? No one is coerced. But how could anybody refuse? If one lifestyle does not suit you, pick another! Select from a wide range of enchanted worlds, and further be assured that your posterity will someday be among the magic-welders who establish a new order across a million suns.”
Tkett saw implications that went beyond the offer itself. The plan of the Buyur—its scope and the staggering range of their ambition—left him momentarily dumbfounded.
They want to set up a whole, galaxy-spanning civilization, based on what they consider to be an ideal way of life. Someday soon, after this “Time of Changes” has ruptured the old intergalaxy links, the Buyur will be free from any of the old constraints of law and custom that dominated oxygen-breathing civilization for the last billion years.
Then, out of this planet there will spill a new wave of starships, crewed by the Seven Races of Jijo, commanded by bold captains, wizards, and kings…a mixture of themes from old-time science fiction and fantasy…pouring forth toward adventure! Over the course of several ages, they will fight dangers, overcome grave perils, discover and uplift new species. Eventually, the humans and urs and traekis and others will become revered leaders of a galaxy that is forever filled with high drama.
In this realm, boredom will be the ultimate horror. Placidity the ultimate crime. The true masters—the Buyur—will see to that.
Like the Great Oz, manipulating levers behind a curtain, the Buyur will use their high technology to provide every wonder. Ask for dragons? They will gene-craft or manufacture them. Secret factories will build sea monsters and acid-mouthed aliens, ready for battle.
It will be a galaxy run by special-effects wizards! A perpetual theme park, whose inhabitants use magic spells instead of engineering to get what they want. Conjurers and monarchs will replace tedious legislatures, impulse will supplant deliberation, and lists of secret names will substitute for physics.
Nor will our descendants ask too many questions, or dare to pull back the curtain and expose Oz. Those who try won’t have descendants!
Cushioned by hidden artifice, in time people will forget nature’s laws.
They will flourish in vivid kingdoms, forever setting forth heroically, returning triumphally, or dying bravely…but never asking why.
Tkett mused on this while filling the surrounding water
with intense sprays of sonar clicks. Chissis, who had clearly not understood much of the g’Kek’s convoluted explanation, settled close by, rolling her body through the complex rhythms of Tkett’s worried thoughts.
Finally, he felt that he grasped the true significance of it all.
Tkett swam close to the crystal cube, raising one eye until it was level with the small representative of the mighty Buyur.
“I think I get what’s going on here,” he said.
“Yes?” the little g’Kek answered cheerfully. “And what is your sage opinion, oh dolphin-friend. What do you think of this great plan?”
Tkett lifted his head high out of the water, rising up on churning flukes, emitting chittering laughter from his blowhole. At the same time, a sardonic Trinary haiku floated from his clicking brow.
* Sometimes sick egos
* foster in their narrow brains
* Really stupid jokes!
Some aspects of the offer were galling, such as the smug permanence of Buyur superiority in the world to come. Yet, Peepoe felt tempted.
After all, what else awaits us here on Jijo? Enslavement by the Jophur? Or the refuge of blessed dimness that the sages promise, if we follow the so-called Path of Redemption? Doesn’t this offer a miraculous way out of choosing between those two unpalatable destinies?
She concentrated hard to sequester her misgivings, focusing instead on the advantages of the Buyur plan. And there were plenty, such as living in a cosmos where hidden technology made up for nature’s mistakes. After all, wasn’t it cruel of the Creator to make a universe where so many fervent wishes were ignored? A universe where prayers were mostly answered—if at all—within the confines of the heart? Might the Buyur plan rectify this oversight for billions and trillions? For all the inhabitants of a galaxy-spanning civilization! Generosity on such a scale was hard to fathom.
She compared this ambitious goal with the culture waiting for the Streaker survivors, should they ever make it back home to the other four galaxies, where myriad competitive, fractious races bickered endlessly. Overreliant on an ancient Library of unloving technologies, they seldom sought innovation or novelty. Above all, the desires of individual beings were nearly always subordinated to the driving needs of nation, race, clan, and philosophy.
Again, the Buyur vision looked favorable compared to the status quo.
A small part of her demanded: Are these our only choices? What if we could come up with alternatives that go beyond simpleminded—
She quashed the question fiercely, packing it off to far recesses of her mind.
“I would love to learn more,” she told the gray wizard. “But what about my comrades? The other dolphins who now live on Jijo? Won’t you need them, too?”
“In order to have a genetically viable colony, yes,” the spokesman agreed. “If you agree to join us, we will ask you first to go and persuade others to come.”
“Just out of curiosity, what would happen if I refused?”
The sorcerer shrugged. “Your life will resume much as it would have, if you had never found us. We will erase all conscious memory of this visit, and you will be sent home. Later, when we have had a chance to refine our message, emissaries will come visit your pod of dolphins. But as far as you know, you will hear the proposal as if for the first time.”
“I see. And again, those who refuse will be memory wiped…and again each time you return. Kind of gives you an advantage in proselytizing, doesn’t it?”
“Perhaps. Still, no one is compelled to join against their will.” The little human smiled. “So, what is your answer? Will you help convey our message to your peers? We sense that you understand and sympathize with the better world we aim toward. Will you help enrich the Great Stew of Races with wondrous dolphin flavors?”
Peepoe nodded. “I will carry your vision to the others.”
“Excellent! In fact, you can start without even leaving this pool! For I can now inform you that a pair of your compatriots already reside aboard one of our nearby vessels…and those two seem to be having trouble appreciating the wondrous life we offer.”
“Not Zhaki and Mopol!” Peepoe pushed back with her ventral fins, clicking nervously. She wanted nothing further to do with them.
“No, no,” the magician assured. “Please, wait calmly while we open a channel between ships and all will become clear.”
TKETT
“Hello, Peepoe,” he said to the wavering image in front of him. “I’m glad you look well. We were all worried sick about you. But I figured when we saw Zhaki and Mopol you must be nearby.”
The holo showed a sleek female dolphin, looking exquisite but tired in a jungle-shrouded pool, beside a miniature castle. Tkett could tell a lot about the style of “experiment” aboard her particular vessel, just by observing the crowd of natives gathered by the shore. Some of them were dressed as armored knights, riding upon rearing steeds, while gaily attired peasants doffed their caps to passing lords and ladies. It was a far different approach than the crystal fruits that hung throughout this vessel—semitransparent receptacles where individuals lived permanently immersed in virtual realities.
And yet, the basic principle was similar.
“Hi, Tkett,” Peepoe answered. “Is that Chissis with you? You both doing all right?”
“Well enough, I guess. Though I feel like the victim of some stupid fraternity practical—”
“Isn’t it exciting?” Peepoe interrupted, cutting off what Tkett had been about to say. “Across all the ages, visionaries have come up with countless utopian schemes. But this one could actually w-w-work!”
Tkett stared back at her, unable to believe he was hearing this.
“Oh yeah?” he demanded. “What about free will?”
“The Buyur will provide whatever your will desires.”
“Then how about truth!”
“There are many truths, Tkett. Countless vivid subjective interpretations will thrive in a future filled with staggering diversity.”
“Subjective, exactly! That’s an ancient and d-despicable perversion of the word truth, and you know it. Diversity is wonderful, all right. There may indeed be many cultures, many art forms, even many styles of wisdom. But truth should be about finding out what’s really real, what’s repeatable and verifiable, whether it suits your fancy or not!”
Peepoe sputtered a derisive raspberry.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Life isn’t just about having fun, or getting whatever you want!” Tkett felt his guts roil, forcing sour bile up his esophagus. “Peepoe, there’s such a thing as growing up! Finding out how the world actually works, despite the way you think things ought to be. Objectivity means I accept that the universe doesn’t revolve around me.”
“In other words, a life of limitations.”
“That we overcome with knowledge! With new tools and skills.”
“Tools made of dead matter, designed by committees, mass-produced and sold on shop counters.”
“Yes! Committees, teams, organizations, and enterprises, all of them made up of individuals who have to struggle every day with their egos in order to cooperate with others, making countless compromises along the way. It ain’t how things happen in a child’s fantasy. It’s not what we yearn for in our secret hearts, Peepoe. I know that! But it’s how adults get things done.
“Anyway, what’s wrong with buying miracles off a shop counter? So we take for granted wonders that our ancestors would’ve given their tail fins for. Isn’t that what they’d have wanted for us? You’d prefer a world where the best of everything is kept reserved for wizards and kings?”
Tkett felt a sharp jab in his side. The pain made him whirl, still bitterly angry, still flummoxed with indignation.
“What is it!” he demanded sharply of Chissis, even though the little female could not answer.
She backed away from his bulk and rancor, taking a snout-down submissive posture. But from her brow came a brief burst of caustic Primal.
&nb
sp; # idiot idiot idiot idiot
# idiots keep talking human talk-talk
# while the sea tries to teach #
Tkett blinked. Her phrasings were sophisticated, almost lucid. In fact, it was a lot like a simple Trinary chiding poem, that a dolphin mother might use with her infant.
Through an act of hard self-control, he forced himself to consider.
While the sea tries to teach…
It was a common dolphin turn of phrase, implying that one should listen below the surface, to meanings that lay hidden.
He whirled back to examine the hologram, wishing it had not been designed by beings who relied so much on sight, and ignored the subtleties of sound transmission.
“Think about it, Tkett,” Peepoe went on, as if their conversation had not been interrupted. “Back home, we dolphins are the youngest client race of an impoverished, despised clan, in danger of being conquered or rendered extinct at any moment. Yet now we’re being offered a position at the top of a new pantheon, just below the Buyur themselves.
“What’s more, we’d be good at this! Think about how dolphin senses might extend the range of possible magics. Our sound-based dreams and imagery. Our curiosity and reckless sense of adventure! And that just begins to hint at the possibilities when we finally come into our own.…”
Tkett concentrated on sifting the background. The varied pulses, whines and clicks that melted into the ambience whenever any neo-dolphin spoke. At first it seemed Peepoe was emitting just the usual mix of nervous sonar and blowhole flutters.
Then he picked out a single, floating phrase…in ancient Primal…that interleaved itself amid the earnest logic of sapient speech.
# sleep on it sleep on it sleep on it sleep on it #