Well, I have been "forgiven," at this point, and the irksome magnanimity of charity is especially chafing since it turned out rather well. No credit to me, however, I must admit.
Since none of us suffered the slightest repercussions from our peculiar meal of the night before—indeed, we all felt refreshed and well—we determined to collect more, and to try the rest of our samples. It's too soon to judge, but our hopes are a trifle brighter about the prospect of surviving in this strange place. Less like terrified castaways, and more like inquisitive investigators, we considered the hours of daylight ahead of us. Jinjur had insisted on our scrupulously recording time spent, so far, in every endeavor. This morning she added a further item to the file.
"The tide rose, during the night, but I've no real idea how much. I think we'd better start keeping track."
"Back on Prometheus, I only glanced at the tidal charts James had made," confessed Shirley. "If I had looked carefully at them once, I might now be able to recall them clearly, but I was counting on being able to ask my imp to bring them up in my helmet display any time I wanted to consult them . . ." A quick glance around brought no enlightenment: all of us had assumed we'd have the charts to hand when needed.
David said, "All I do remember is that there were wide fluctuations in the height of the peak tides, depending on how accurately the moons and Barnard were lined up during the quadruple conjunctions, and that some of the tides are really big."
"It doesn't help that most of the time the rainclouds keep us from seeing where Zouave and Zulu are," I added.
"Nothing to do but start from scratch. Literally," said John, moving to arrange a line of stones down the slope of the beach and descending into the rippling shallows. A few minutes search brought a wide variety of colors in the stones, and Nels recorded the arrangement on the back of a smooth piece of bark with his precious pencil. The crude bark tide table was stowed safely, the first entry dutifully made. I stored a duplicate in my electronic journal and set a timing clock running so the time between this reading and the next would be recorded along with the height of the water. The length of the day here was about thirty and a quarter hours, or almost exactly 108,800 seconds. I would later set the zero time for the tide table when the rainclouds parted and at some midnight hour I could see the shadow of the moon we were living on reach the center of the gargantuan planet that hung overhead. It seemed strange to be thinking once again about seconds and hours, for under the primitive conditions we had been living in, a fraction of a day had been sufficient accuracy for any planning activities.
The tide markers set up and recorded, we sorted our various containers, and prepared to search for food. Before setting out, Carmen laid out a quantity of as-yet-untried beans she had found the day before. "There's lots of these," she remarked hopefully. "I hope they turn out tasty, because they're easy to get!"
Cinnamon ran them thoughtfully through her hands, and sighed. "I wish I could try a few things, but I know it's safest to stick to the boiled routine." Richard was awaiting his hunting partner with his usual patience.
"Hurry up, Cinnamon! I want to go down those cliffs today!" He is, apparently, fearless about heights, and I was glad she was willing to watch from a position of safety while he trotted lightly along sheer precipices. He attributes this nonchalance to his Mohawk heritage. Cordially invited to come along, several days ago, while he scouted the cliff-faces for animal dwellings, I had been petrified to see him jump carelessly from one crumbling rim to another, with a drop below of more than a hundred feet! I had sat down, with assumed fatigue, and looked resolutely out to sea until he clambered up to my side again, grinning and not even slightly out of breath. I suspect he is secretly enjoying our misadventure hugely; certainly he has taken to padding silently about the forests, and reporting the activities of some of the smaller native animals with a precision which indicates a great deal of careful observation.
Cinnamon swung the bean pot towards me apologetically. "Will you get the water for me, please, Reiki? If you're going in that direction, that is?"
I was indeed planning to return to the shallow tide pools—the little clams had looked good to us all, and we were anxious to share a taste—and my way passed our little freshwater spring. Cinnamon hurried into the woods, and I hefted the heavy pot thoughtfully. Then I carefully pushed all the beans into it, and set it handy to the glowing coals—I am all too apt to become distracted from a cooking chore, and if the pot was where I would notice it, it would be safer. I selected a large, but much lighter, container for the water, along with a net for my catches, and went quietly down the beach.
My slippered feet made no sound on the soft wet sand, and when I saw one the little six-legged scurrying creatures busily exploring our collection of food, I stopped and watched it. It never looked in my direction, and when it finally picked up a fruit and trundled off I was certain it was unaware of my following presence. It moved rapidly and purposefully down a narrow, almost invisible trail, and seemed unaware of both the noisy rustling it caused among the bushes, and my own silent progress. I was concerned, as we were approaching some thorn thickets, but the little animal's speed never slackened. To my amazement, I saw the thorny branches divide before it! The animal hurried through without pausing, and I was able to follow before the aperture closed again. I noticed with some dismay that it did reclose, and the way behind me was as thick and thorny as ever, but my curiosity was growing with every step, and I postponed worry about my eventual return. In any case, our destination seemed to be so far ahead that we went into and out of many thorn thickets; my small guide was pursuing a beeline, and as long as I stayed quick and quiet behind it, I could follow, and then select my own way home. We traveled thus for nearly an hour, through dark forests, across a still-warm crusted tongue of lava from the nearby volcano, and we had penetrated a larger and thicker forest of thorns than I had yet seen when I suddenly saw a clearing ahead of us, and a spot of bright color.
Thus warned, I hesitated, and stayed motionless as the little animal continued on, straight ahead, up to and into a hole in the trunk of the strangest tree I have ever seen. With instinctive caution in the presence of such a large and peculiar plant, I sank into the shadow of a convenient boulder and watched. The tree is at least four meters tall and very thick in diameter—about one meter, at an estimate. The leaves atop it form a dense canopy, of a softer shade of the ubiquitous blue-green. Suspended from these upper regions are six small structures, like hanging nests. One of the nests quivered from time to time, as though it contained a living occupant. The small animal I had pursued scampered up one of the large roots of the tree into a smoothly rounded hole and disappeared. I watched for its return to sight for many minutes, but nothing happened.
All at once, I heard the whistling which has become so familiar to us, and ducked instinctively as one of the little "owls" fluttered into view and dove immediately into one of the flaccid nest-like structures. Once again I waited, watching, and noting how sturdy are the thick long roots which support the trunk—there were six of them, curved and long.
The glimpse of color which had caught my eye was red, and shaped like a curious decoration, entangled in the leaves of the canopy. In addition, hanging above the little hole in the trunk is a fabric-like banner, creamy in color, and curiously patterned in red. The trunk is girdled with a series of pouches—I was not close enough to determine if they grew from the bark or were simply hung along the surface, but there were things inside them, of varying contours. I watched closely, but caution kept me from approaching nearer—I didn't want the little owl-things to spot me while I was so far off on my own.
The thought of passing time startled me, and I realized I had better leave this fascinating tree, bedecked as it appeared to be for some celebration—by whom?—and report to the others. Accordingly, I turned back, and patiently fought the thorns in silence until I was free of that thicket and could run around the rest, back towards the beach.
By the time I reached the little spring my steps had slowed considerably, and, when I trotted up, I saw with horror the water container I had dropped. Those wretched beans! In urgent haste I filled the jar and fled towards the fire, trying desperately to think how long I had been gone. I quailed when I saw all the others there, busily carrying wood, while Cinnamon bent sadly over the pot of now-roasted beans.
"Reiki, I'm afraid you burned these even before you cooked them!" she said mildly. Comments from the others were less gentle.
"Did you say there were lots of these, Carmen?" asked Jinjur. "So, maybe, we can try again with them when someone is willing to pay attention?"
"Well, yes, there's plenty," Carmen sniffed. "But the branches are stiff and scratchy; someone else can go for the next batch!"
"I don't suppose you had any extra time to collect clams, either, Reiki? Hope you're all willing to try boiled roots tonight, folks!" taunted Shirley.
"Gack!" said Richard, with feeling.
"Too late to do anything about that now. C'mon, Reiki, help us hustle for dry wood—haven't you noticed the sky?" David's importunate query caught my ear. Of course I hadn't noticed the sky, having been far too interested in my strange tree. Now I looked and saw that the rain had stopped, at least for a while, and the sky above was clearing. It was near noon, and the darkness was falling as Barnard slid behind Gargantua. Beautifully, magically, the elliptical light of Prometheus shone in the darkening heavens through the thinning clouds! My whole self ached with the glorious sight, so familiar and dear, and containing everything I knew of home!
Hastily, I sloshed the useless water into the bean pot and hurried to help. We had, several days previously, formed a huge cross on the sand, as straight and true as possible with the naked eye, and built up a wide ridge of sand along the lines. This sand was quick to drain dry, and along the ridges we hastily and evenly piled our tinder, bringing it from the big supply we kept under shelter. We worked quickly in the fading light, for ominous clouds were gathering again. Then each of us took a portion of the burning coals, and at Jinjur's signal we bent to set our bonfire alight. Rapidly, the dry wood caught, and the flames spread along the bisecting lines, even, straight, and burning brightly. It was a splendid fiery cross! We watched it burn, in silence, and willed our thoughts upwards with the sparks. For half an hour we kept it flaming, sending its clear signal of life and hope. Then, with planned precision, we snuffed it out, as close as we could do it all at one time. This too is part of the signal, indicating we are in some degree of control, at present. As we extinguished the last embers with sand, we were all quiet. We have done what we can, and just about all we can, to reestablish communication with our parent ship. The next move will be up to them. Pensively, wearily, we drifted slowly back towards our campfire as the next storm front moved in and it started to rain again.
Suddenly, Carmen, in the lead, sniffed twice. "What's that I smell? It smells like . . .no . . .it can't be . . .coffee?"
The scent coming on the rising little breeze was not coffee, really, but it was not unpleasant; it was toasty, and warm, with a definite character. Arielle broke into a run and hurried to my steaming bean pot. She and Cinnamon bent over it hopefully, and found spoons to taste.
"Reiki!" said Carmen, her eyes glowing in the firelight. "It's not coffee—yet! But with a little more careful roasting than you gave it, and grinding of course, I think we can come up with something pretty close!" She took another sip. "It's already better than we had on Prometheus!" she enthused. I remembered when our original stores had been used up, and how disgusted she had been with the Christmas Bush version of the brew. I smiled happily at her, noticing again how pretty Carmen is now that all the makeup she wore has vanished.
Quickly the others tasted, critical, but genuinely appreciative of my serendipitous concoction. I've never been a connoisseur of coffee, and to me it tasted both weak and bitter, but perhaps that can be bettered when the cooks are in charge. At any rate, it helped to make up for the meagerness of the rest of our meal, for which I was grateful!
"You know, Reiki, in the normal course of events, you'd never have had a thing to do with beans, or fire, or even making mistakes," said Shirley thoughtfully. "Of course I'll be only too happy to turn everything back over to James, when we can, but . . .it's really rather exciting, doing things for ourselves."
Jinjur grinned, her white teeth bright in the firelight. "So far we've been lucky," she said. "We're still just blundering around, without really knowing what we're doing."
David glanced up at the leafy roof above us. "Well, considering, I agree with Shirley. I never helped raise a roof before, never thought I would, but it's up and doing the job, and we sure did every bit of it ourselves."
"After all the high-tech apparatus built into my standing desk in the hydroponics lab, this is a definite come-down! But it works," Nels admitted. "This" is a long, narrow, flat-topped work area, consisting of leaf-planks lying on simple saw-horse arrangements. It accommodates Nels's lanky height as well as Arielle's small stature by the simple expedient of going uphill, and each of us has found a spot upon it that suits us.
While we at, and rested through the remaining dark hour of midday, I completed this entry into my journal, but said no word of the discovery of the decorated tree. I don't know why I am keeping that to myself, nor why I am determined to return to it as quickly as I can. It's unlike me to be secretive, but, in this case, the secrecy is compelling.
Would the bizarre interview have concluded less happily, if I had not kept my discovery to myself? I flatter myself that it might have indeed, but of course I cannot be sure.
Before the light had advanced even to dimness, I slipped off, heading silently back to the strange tree I had found. I made good speed, although the light was still gloomy in the slow rain. I had gone well over a mile when I heard, ahead of me, the peculiar whistling we had been puzzling over, and I hid behind the trunk of one of the big banyan-like trees; if this approaching "owl" was communicating with anyone, I wanted no warning of my presence to be communicated. The "owl" flew past me, and I went warily, from cover to cover, hoping I might find who, or what, had been decorating the tree.
Ahead of me I could hear strange new sounds—sounds unlike any I had ever heard before. Keeping out of sight as much as possible, I approached the final thicket where I had last seen the tree, peered through the thorny foliage, then stood, absolutely transfixed. The strange "tree" was MOVING! I cannot express my shock, at seeing the long, thick roots alternately lifting, three at a time, transporting the "plant," slowly, ponderously, with very definite intent, in an elephantine but effective march!
As I stared, dumbfounded, several of the little "owls" emerged from the nest-like structures in the canopy, and flew off in various directions. Their strange cries instantly began again, whether to signal each other or the big "tree" I had no way of knowing. The moving green giant had now reached the edge of the thorny barrier. With difficulty, I remained quiet, struggling to assimilate the meaning of what I was seeing, as the spiky coils rolled back upon themselves, and the "tree" continued its plodding pace, through the opening in the barrier!
Keeping out of sight, I followed the slow progress of the incredible traveling plant. I was fascinated to see that the method of locomotion, while tediously slow, provides maximum stability for what must be considerable weight. The front "leg," as that is what it seems to be, moves in unison with the back side pair for a single massive step; then the trunk is balanced on those three legs while the front side pair and the rear leg move forward in the next step. It is a series of smooth, slow movements, seemingly hydraulic in nature. They were carrying the beast smoothly along the trail; with yet another shock, I realized that the trail was one that led directly to our camp!
I ran ahead to find a good vantage point where I could watch the trail without being seen. It was hours later, and well into the afternoon, when the tree finally ambled into view. It stopped at a thorn thicket just off the trail, and, after a whistle which somehow produced an opening, it went inside. In about the center of the thicket, the "plant" paused in its motion.
In increasing disbelief I watched as one of the roots rose, slowly and smoothly, to the belt around its middle and, without fumbling, removed from a scabbard what certainly looked like an obsidian blade! Two other legs rose to a net hanging down from the blue-green fronds to remove and unwrap a package containing a chunk of something. Using the sharp blade with precision, and an economy of movement that told its own story of sophistication, the amazing creature cut the contents of the package into segments. Some of these segments it swung up to the opening in the "trunk" where they were taken by the small creatures inside. The remaining segments were rewrapped, equally slowly and exactly, in what looked like a thin waxy leaf and placed back into the carrying net.
Then, carefully, the roots lowered the red-embroidered, apron-like cloth until it covered the hole in the trunk. From behind the cloth I could hear soft but definite crunching noises, and I concluded that the segments were being consumed in some fashion.
The thing had been standing still while this took place, but it now resumed its ponderous progress. I began to think, as hard as I could, and swiftly. The strange decorations on the "tree" were, even from this distance, both bizarre and formal, and immaculately clean; it was impossible to mistake a genuine intent in this steady advance; nor could I overlook the obvious intelligence concealed somewhere in this alien creature. We were soon to receive a most unusual visitor!
Quickly, I considered my options. At the rate the giant "plant" was moving, it would be a number of hours at least before it would come near enough to our small camp to meet any of the others by chance. I would have plenty of time to warn them—if that was what was necessary here! But I waited, thinking. This approach had much of stateliness about it, and nothing of hostility. A native of this world, of such size, with unmistakable technical abilities, with appreciation of adornment for its own sake, with apparent control over at least some other species extant here—all of this indicated an emissary worthy of our own most civilized behavior. In an initial confrontation, it was vital that our behavior be not only civilized, but universally understandable. I stood, and took a deep breath.
I felt, very strongly, that I was better suited to make the first tentative step towards amity than most of the others, if not all. I hoped I might be able to provide a peaceful liaison between this incredible being and the weary, worried members of my group. At any rate, I resolved to try.
Still keeping myself concealed from the "owls," who did indeed seem to serve as advance warning for the "tree," I hurried ahead some distance and began to look for a suitable meeting site. It was important that I appear calm and ready for the greeting, and neither hostile nor servile. I found what I was looking for, a few feet off the creature's direct line of march. It was a large rock, to the top of which I was able to climb with a few easy steps. Here I sat, straight, and as still as I could hold.
The moving tree came steadily on. One of the small flying creatures, returning, caught sight of me and emitted such a startled squeak of sound that I nearly laughed. It circled me twice and then flew back to its nest on the animal. After moving about inside for a short while, it returned to the opening in the nest and stayed there, its large eye focused directly upon me. The giant creature stopped, and from the surrounding forest, two other "owls" emerged, returning immediately to their "nests," from which all three surveyed me unblinkingly. I sat motionless, except for speaking softly into the recorder, while I was examined, and commented on apparently, for several minutes.
Then, slowly, almost formally, the tree started walking toward me. With each step it raised its moving legs high, and spread the roots at the tips of the legs, as if to show that they were empty of weapons. One of the small scurrying creatures, poised in the trunk opening, whistled a melody different from any I had heard before. It was brief, and repeated several times. There was no doubt in my mind that I was being greeted in a most formal and peaceful manner.
Before it had come much nearer, I stood up on the rock, put the recorder into my pocket, extended my own arms and opened my empty hands. I remained standing tall for a minute, my head nearly level with the top of the fronds on the alien, and then, carefully and precisely I stepped from the rock and lowered my arms. I wanted to make it clear that while I could move with much greater speed than the being before me, I chose not to do so at this time. With slow and steady steps I approached, stopping about five meters in front of the now motionless creature. As slowly and formally as I could, I bowed low. This elicited a ripple of movement from the creature. I straightened, and began to speak in my normal voice.
"I and my friends have come in peace to visit your land. We mean you no harm, although we find ourselves in need of sustenance and shelter, which we have made bold to take for ourselves. We hope that our visit will be beneficial to us, and at least harmless to you. Perhaps we can learn much of value from each other. Certainly, if that is the case, it will be in our mutual best interest to pursue the ways of friendship."
Of course I knew my words would mean nothing to the intelligence before me, but I have long observed that the tones in a human voice convey infinitely more subtle messages than words. The fact that I appreciated and was impressed by the awesome presence of this being would inevitably be communicated if I spoke sincerely, and, more importantly, at some length. I paused, and then, as nearly as I could, I repeated the little tune of greeting.
My heart was pounding, but I soon controlled my breathing and was quiet again. The little animal in the opening vanished suddenly, which caught my eye. It was instantly replaced—by a different one? I could not tell. It began whistling something—neither song nor speech, but with something of each—which went on for nearly a minute. As it was concluding, I saw, with some trepidation, one of the long "legs" rising slowly towards me. It came steadily on, until it was in the air, midway between us, when it stopped. Carefully, slowly, I extended my hand, and, with the lightest possible touch, put my fingers on the outstretched root of the alien. It felt as much like a plant as it looked, but nonetheless real, and I withdrew my hand slowly, my mind tingling as my fingers were not, at the unbelievable meeting.
Which seemed to be over. It was late in the afternoon and it was getting dark. The small animal disappeared inside the trunk, and the enormous legs began their strange shuffle toward a nearby thorn thicket. One of the small creatures in the mouth of the alien gave a whistle and the thorn bush opened to allow the alien in. I turned and sprinted off down the trail toward our camp, as the owls returned to their nests.
It is now the next morning, and I have narrated as clearly as I can all that happened yesterday. I have gone back up the trail and checked, and the creature is back out of its thorn thicket and is obviously on its way here. My recorder is on now so that I won't have to repeat our plans, and so that the upcoming encounter can be entered as it occurs. I'll try to keep our comments identified, so that when we can get this account to James it will be clear. (Fortunately, I can enter my own comments with my fingertips, unheard.)
"How far away is the creature by now, Reiki?" (This was Jinjur.)
"As near as I can judge, about half a kilometer. That'll take it a couple of hours, but we'll see it well before that."
"We've got to be ready for an attack. There's absolutely no reason to count on this being a friendly visit." (John, ever wary!)
"On the contrary—I think we ought to assume it is friendly until we have good cause to think otherwise. For it to have met Reiki in such neutral circumstances, and stayed benign, is a pretty good sign." (Nels, with quiet firmness.)
"For Reiki to have deliberately confronted the thing was stupid!" (Richard, growling.)
"And dangerous. I'm furious about that, Reiki!" (Jinjur is angrier with me than I have ever seen her. I shall speak in my own defense, and in that of the giant—I must succeed in this!)
"I know it was not only not stupid, it was not dangerous. You will see, and feel, as I did, the lack of hostility in this . . .this giant, when you meet it, if you are willing to wait, and remain calm. That's why I wanted to prepare both you and it. And why I ask you, please, to be ready to greet it peacefully, and move slowly and tranquilly. It has come a long way with great patience, to seek us out; I suspect that through its seeing eye owls, it already knows a great deal more about us than we do about it. And the fastest way we can establish a bond we can grow with, is to slow down to its speed, paradoxical though that sounds! We must demonstrate that we are civilized aliens, so we can learn if it too is civilized—for it certainly is alien!"
"Can you repeat that first tune you mentioned, Reiki?" (David's question, as he brought up his whistle.)
"I'll try." (I did, and David quickly copied it, although I'm afraid I got a couple of the notes wrong.)
"Shall we all stay, or some hide?" (Arielle, looking speculatively at the tall tree trunks around us.)
"I'm pretty sure it knows exactly how many we are. Those little "owls" have been about us all along, and I think they have a symbiotic relationship with the tree—or a relationship of some sort."
"Which is it, Reiki, plant or animal?" (Carmen's question.)
"I don't know. You'll see it, you decide which it is!"
(And here it comes in sight! We are lined up, two formal rows at attention, with Jinjur at our head, and all as still as possible, while the creature slowly advances. I hear gasps of amazement, and even I am newly amazed at this unbelievable sight. The blue-green fronds atop the tall creature move in the wind, and the empty "nests" swing freely. All the little "owls" but one are busy in flight, keeping us all under surveillance. The amazing roots move slowly but efficiently, and one of the small animals suddenly appears in the opening. It's the greeting-song again! David gives me a reproachful look—I had indeed got the tune wrong! But he slowly lifts the flute to his mouth, and responds with a very accurate imitation of the melody. The huge being almost ripples! As we agreed, I step forward, slowly, with Jinjur, until she is within reach of the long legs.)
Speaking slowly, I extend her hand: "May I present our commander, Jinjur."
(The small animal vanishes, is replaced instantly, and a new sound comes forth! Sounding amazingly similar to my tones, the speech is:)
"Maaee preeseent oor coommaandeer jeenjuur."
(Wherever this being maintains its intelligence is a mystery, but its existence is very obvious! With more self-confidence now, Jinjur takes another step, slowly indicates herself with both hands, and states:)
"Jinjur."
(The massive "foot" begins to rise. Jinjur, without flinching, extends her hand, and touches the strong extending "root." From yet another little "mole" comes a new sound—a soft, whistling.)
"Jeenjuur!"
It's once again late, and my watch. We continue to maintain one, although we've seen nothing to cause us alarm; Jinjur's military training goes too deep to allow her to relax her vigilance on our behalf, and in addition, we are still anxiously awaiting a break in the weather which might bring us a return signal from Prometheus.
I have much to think about, as I gaze at the scudding clouds. Our meeting with the giant plant lasted for hours. At some point early on, the creature (which makes most of its sounds through the little animals we have seen gathering food!) emitted a deep noise which sounded startlingly like a chuckle. I very much doubt that it was anything of the sort, but it sounded so like a deep, human laugh that Richard exclaimed, involuntarily,
"Ho, Ho, Ho? Is it a Jolly Blue-Green Giant?"
The name stuck, I'm afraid. To me it sounds both inaccurate and condescending, but the others now refer to the immense creature as a Jolly, so I shall go along with it until we learn more.
And there is vastly more to learn! It proved surprisingly quick to copy our sounds of speech, and to learn the meanings of words. It is apparently eager to learn, and the first symbol it desired to share was the idea of "fire." We must acquire a large vocabulary to communicate more, but the few facts we have gained, with tantalizing slowness, about the way in which the Jolly exists, have been stunning in their complexity and in their total difference from anything we have ever encountered.
"Eyes," indicated the Jolly, with the smoothly moving tip of one limb gliding up nearly to touch my own, then off to touch, equally lightly, one of the little owls!
Cinnamon, moving with extreme slowness, stood on a nearby rock to peer deeply into one swinging nest without presuming to touch it. Her ready empathy with all living things stood her in good stead, and the Jolly never moved as she stepped down.
"There's nothing in there but a single protruding thing, like a teat. It would just fit that opening on the back of the owl, but I don't know . . ." Here, one of the owls returned to that nest, and Cinnamon said, judging from its position, it was indeed on the teat, with its large eye regarding us from the nest opening.
"This is much more than symbiosis!" exclaimed Nels. "That tiny thing is more like a free-flying extension of the Jolly!"
Similarly, the long slow exploring limb, which behaves somewhat like the trunk of an elephant in its massive yet precise movement, touched my mouth, and then the opening in its body. We were unable to see within, partly because the little animals we have seen were inside, and partly because the opening itself was occupied by one of the same animals, emitting sounds more and more like our words. Curiously, there is a covering for that hole which is obviously made of some other material. It appears soft and fine, and elaborately decorated with colored threads. It hangs above the mouth most of the time, and we have no idea what its purpose is.
From the manner in which the small animal-like creatures darted away from, and quickly back to the opening, it appeared they are not the guiding intelligence of the creature; their activities have the appearance of messengers receiving instructions, and communicating with outsiders. Their alacrity and single-mindedness indicate a great dependence on, and trust of, that central intelligence; indeed, that seems true of the owl-like creatures also. Nels especially strove to maintain a scientific position of detached observation; this was wise, as some of the rest of us tend to leap to anthropomorphic conclusions which frequently are erroneous! Our original assumption, that the owls and animals were individuals in their own right, became drastically altered, as we realized they are actually no more independent than our own eyes and hands. We struggled to understand how a structure that is so like a plant, even to the extent of using photosynthesis to some extent, can have evolved into a tool-making animal!
The Jolly's incredible speed at assimilating and using our own speech patterns was in vivid contrast to its slowness of movement. Indeed, as the urgent questions began to fly from Jinjur and John I felt compelled to intervene.
"Excuse me!" I said rather loudly. "We've begun in well-meaning fashion, and it's obvious there's more for us to learn here than we can possibly do in one meeting. This noble creature may be the key to the entire ecology of this world! But I am sure you see that while the intelligence is even quicker than our own, the motions are necessarily very slow, and it is the essence of diplomacy, more than etiquette, to respect that pace, particularly as we are the unwilling intruders in this country!"
Jinjur looked thoughtfully at me, and to my relief, nodded curtly and sat down quietly; the little "eye" which had been fluttering to keep her in sight returned to its nest.
For the next several hours we worked very hard; studying the Jolly's appearance, formulating hypotheses, framing questions, struggling to simplify the questions enough to be understood, listening to the brief answers and then discussing them quietly.
Finally, we humans became tired and hungry. David, in particular, had been sitting crosslegged in front of the Jolly, listening intently to the whistled phrases passing between "eyes" and "hands"; he copied them, constantly correcting himself, on the little flute, and had interpreted meanings for many of the sounds. When he finally stood, it was slowly and painfully.
"I'm not being mannerly, I'm stiff!" he grimaced.
"And I'm hoarse," croaked Cinnamon, who had been doing most of the questioning—her level tones seem to be the most easily understood by the Jolly, and we had been passing our queries through her.
"How shall we end the conference? Ring a bell or something?" asked John.
"David can!" suggested Arielle. "Try first song!"
That was a good idea—since it was undoubtedly ceremonial in nature, perhaps it would serve as temporary farewell also. Jinjur and Nels seemed about to protest at this termination of our interview; however, as they got to their feet also their expressions revealed surprise and discomfort. We have not remained immobile for so long since our arrival! While the rest of us gathered ostentatiously in a neat row, David repeated the first song we had heard from the Jolly. With some relief we heard the answering repetition, and then we all moved off at our own speed. Once again, the huge roots began their curious plodding pace, and the alien creature moved majestically into the welcoming shelter of a nearby thicket.
Jinjur put Shirley to keep first watch, and the rest of us turned to the routine of preparing a meal.
My own part of the job, to which I am philosophically resigned, is the ongoing collection of fuel; I have become skillful enough to have an effective routine, and one which leaves my mind free to reflect. All the new information was seething so busily in my head I paid little attention to my customary path beside the bustling stream which fell from the hills. I climbed steadily, stopping occasionally to stack pieces for my return trip downhill, or to toss large bits to float downstream for most of the distance. I was thinking so intently of the strange lifeform we were studying, that the sight in the soft earth of the brookside gave me a physical jolt. It was only my own earlier foot-print, but now I realized how "alien" it was.
How recently I had been fully engaged in a highly technological mission, remote and detached, in sophisticated surroundings, maintained in every respect by intelligences only slightly more artificial than my own! Could there be anything more complete than this present reversal? As the days have gone by, there has been less and less hopeful talk about the possibility of our ever returning to Prometheus. I think each of us has gone round and round in our own minds, searching for a way in which that might be done, and have come up with only pessimistic conclusions. The lander under the water may still provide us with tools, possibly even some means of communicating with the ship, but the difficulties inherent in physical transportation are immense and we know them all.
Are we prepared, or even willing, to consider living out the remainder of our lives in these primitive circumstances with only each other for company? No wonder we are so avid to explore all the intricacies of the creature we met today! How interested Katrina and George would—at this point I missed that former life with a very real pang. But each day, I realized, as I continued to muse, the faces here become more real and precious to me. I think the Christmas Bush and its imps did as much to keep us isolated from one another as they did to keep us carefree and comfortable. Since we had no need for the companionship of others, we had gradually become unmindful, even intolerant of closeness. Certainly I had!
Now, it is becoming easy and pleasurable to talk with each other; and I have heard stories of the backgrounds of my friends I never would have imagined! How Shirley had discovered her passion for drums in early adolescence and joined an amateur band, and, with typical enthusiasm, practiced so assiduously her fingers bled daily! How Nels' meticulous laboratory drawings had led to idle sketches of fantastic creatures, and fired his imagination of other worlds. Carmen's sorrow for her mother's sorrow, when Carmen left her knowing she would never return—there were tears when she told us that, but our quiet listening soothed her, and there was new calm in her face as she sighed, still. And what a joy it is to hear a human laugh—it doesn't happen often, but when it does I hear it with such a lift of the heart! I should, I think, regret losing that, if somehow we could return to the world of James. There always seems to be much to say among us, and we are now sharing our thoughts like our labors.
"It's funny," mused Joh, one evening. "I never bothered to really listen to Jinjur, I just obeyed orders, and did my work, and let my imp do all the communicating. Now I find, when she hollers or whatever, both the words and the holler have meaning, sometimes contradictory." Interesting, if John really has begun to listen! "And what the odd part is, is that I get the message quicker than I did through the imp!"
That was a real delight to hear. The easy intimacy of our communal life is becoming a bond, and our interdependence rests lightly on us all.
I was more than ready for the meal ahead. We have been widening our exploration among possible foodstuffs, and when Arielle and Shirley take their turn as cooks the results can be delectable. Indeed, there are several culinary specialists among us. Cinnamon's way of skewering alternate chunks of fish, clam-meat, and a flavorsome small vegetable on well-soaked slivers of wood, to be grilled slowly, basted frequently with the juice freshly squeezed from the fruit we call a mango, results in a brown, crisply glazed portion, tender and succulent. With rapid and vigorous chopping, John transforms the primrose-colored flesh of the large roots we've dubbed yams into a creamy mass, smooth and mellow, which slides effortlessly down the throat, tasting faintly of sweetness. And David collects, high among the canopy, a tiny, fiery berry whose spicy heat adds welcome flavor to some of the safe but stodgy tubers we find most plentiful.
Two of the new items today had been collected by John, who hovered over them with some concern. One of these is a dark-leafed plant which grows in profusion along the many little streambanks; the other is a thick-skinned small fruit, and he had asked both peel and flesh be cooked. He seemed to have some very definite object in mind, but was reluctant to explain, possibly for fear of influencing the tasters. I think that concern is now unnecessary; as we accumulate a wide variety of edible choices, our comments on new tastes have become remarkably candid—Richard's description of the flavor of David's little "pepper" being noteworthy.
Accordingly, I watched curiously as the small dark leaves were gently steamed—they almost instantly darkened in color, and John looked hopeful. Arielle took a tiny taste of the stuff and looked thoughtful.
"Strong! But not bad." She tasted again, more generously, and chewed slowly. "Tough, too," she commented. "Tastes like . . .like . . .greens."
John was obviously delighted, to my puzzlement. "Great! Give me the rest, Arielle, and I'll run some tests. It's vitamin C I'm after," he explained then. "Good old ascorbic acid—our bodies can't make it, we didn't bring any, and without it we're in for real problems, but that leafy stuff may be an answer!"
As he spoke I turned to watch Shirley approach the steaming fruit which was to be her portion. It smelled rather pleasant, and responded to her knife tip. She took a spoonful; instantly her expression twisted into one I would not have thought humanly possible! Without ceremony she spat the offending morsel straight into the fire and reached for the water bucket, dousing her entire face and gulping frantically.
"No good?" asked Arielle, rather unnecessarily.
"Sour!" gasped Shirley. "I never tasted anything so sour!" John responded with a whoop of glee.
"Terrific! Sounds great! Here, try again!" Quickly he spooned up a tiny portion of the fruit juice, which had turned pink in the cooking, and sprinkled it with a small bit of white powder.
"Try this!" he urged, holding it out to Shirley. She hesitated, but then complied, gingerly. Her apprehension changed to interest then, and she was quick to say, "That's much better!"
John was still excited, but explained "Sour may mean vitamin C too, and I'll test it. It may be as close as we can come to citrus here; all I put on was sugar, but you know how little we have of that, and no way to get more. Unless we can find some of that, too."
We shared his hopes, but I am privately dubious. My own hope is that the Jolly will be able to provide us with information we can use much more readily than this hit-or-miss technique. With this in mind I turned to see if our visitor was where we had parted from it.
The Jolly was not visible in the gloom, but without any real worry I rose to search for it. A moment's reflection led me to the thorn thicket, and peering through the tightly interlaced branches I beheld our guest, motionless and quiet, secure within the protection of those spiky defenses. If we had landed as planned, and conducted our explorations encased in spacesuits, and flying in airplanes, we might have posed a real threat to this native. As it was, we met on much more equal terms! Rather more pleased than otherwise, I left the Jolly undisturbed. The quiet talk around the fire centered on all we had learned from our visitor, both by observation and the halting struggle of conversation.
How achingly weary I am! It was exciting beyond belief to meet this new creature, and to try to absorb so many new ideas, but exhausting. How strange—I have given no thought to Prometheus or its crew for hours. Now that I consider the heavy clouds above us, I can only wonder when some message will come. The ship itself is invisible tonight. It is time to awaken the next watch.
When shall I glimpse our soaring home again?