uplift4.brightnessreef-第13章

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ark　was　already　in　love　with　the　world。
　　The　same　book；　now　yellow；　worn；　and　obsolete　thanks　to　Lark's　own　labors；　rested　like　a　talisman　in　one　cloak…sleeve。　The　optimistic　part　of　my　nature。　The　part　that　thinks　it　can　learn。
　　As　the　file　of　pilgrims　neared　the　Egg's　far　side；　he　slipped。a　hand　into　his　robe　to　touch　his　other　amulet。　The　one　he　never　showed　even　Sara。　A　stone　no　larger　than　his　thumb；　wrapped　by　a　leather　thong。　It　always　felt　warm；　after　resting　for　twenty　years　next　to　a　beating　heart。
　　My　darker　side。　The　part　that　already　knows。
　　The　stone　felt　hot　as　pilgrims　filed　by　a　place　Lark　recalled　too　well。
　　It　was　at　his　third　Gathering　that　he　finally　had　screwed　up　the　nerve…a　patrician　artisan's　son　who　fancied　himself　a　scientist…slinking　away　from　the　flapping　pavilions；　ducking　in　caves　to　elude　passing　pilgrims；　then　dashing　under　the　curved　shelf；　where　only　a　child's　nimble　form　might　go；　drawing　back　his　sampling　hammer。。。。
　　In　all　the　years　since；　no　one　ever　mentioned　the　scar；　evidence　of　his　sacrilege。　It　shouldn't　be　noticeable　among　countless　other　scratches　marring　the　surface　up　close。　Yet　even　a　drifting　mist　didn't　hide　the　spot　when　Lark　filed　by。
　　Should　he　still　be　embarrassed　by　a　child's　offense；　after　all　these　years？
　　Knowing　he　was　forgiven　did　not　erase　the　shame。
　　The　stone　grew　cooler；　less　restive；　as　the　procession　moved　past。
　　Could　it　all　be　illusion？　Some　natural　phenomenon；　familiar　to　sophisticates　of　the　Five　Galaxies？　（Though　toweringly　impressive　to　primitives　hiding　on　a　forbidden　world。）　Rewq　symbionts　also　came　into　widespread　use　a　century　ago；　offering　precious　insight　into　the　moods　of　other　beings。　Had　the　Egg　brought　them　forth；　as　some　said；　to　help　heal　the　Six　of　war　and　discord？　Or　were　they　just　another　quirky　marvel　left　by　Buyur　gene…wizards；　from　back　when　this　galaxy　thronged　with　countless　alien　races？
　　After　poring　through　the　Biblos　archives；　Lark　knew　his　confusion　was　typical　when　humans　puzzled　over　the　sacred。　Even　the　great　Galactics；　whose　knowledge　spanned　time　and　space；　were　riven　by　clashing　dogmas。　If　mighty　star…gods　could　be　perplexed；　what　chance　had　he　of　certainty？
　　There's　one　thing　both　sides　of　me　can　agree　on。
　　In　both　his　scientific　work　and　the　pangs　of　his　heart；　Lark　knew　one　simple　truth…We　don't　belong　here。
　　That　was　what　he　told　the　pilgrims　later；　in　a　rustic　amphitheater；　where　the　rising　sun　surrounded　the　Egg's　oblate　bulk　with　a　numinous　glow。　They　gathered　in　rows；　sitting；　squatting；　or　folding　their　varied　torsos　in　attentive　postures。　The　qheuen　apostate；　Harullen；　spoke　first　in　a　poetic　dialect；　hissing　from　several　leg　vents；　invoking　wisdom　to　serve　this　world　that　was　their　home；　source　of　all　their　atoms。　Then　Harullen　tilted　his　gray　carapace　to　introduce　Lark。　Most　had　e　a　long　way　to　hear　his　heresy。
　　〃We're　told　our　ancestors　were　criminals；〃　he　began　with　a　strong　voice；　belying　his　inner　tension。　〃Their　sneakships　came　to　Jijo；　one　at　a　time；　running　the　patrols　of　the　great　Institutes；　evading　wary　deputy　globes　of　the　Zang；　hiding　their　tracks　in　the　flux　of　mighty　Izmunuti；　whose　carbon　wind　began　masking　this　world　a　few　thousand　years　ago。　They　came　seeking　a　quiet　place　to　perform　a　selfish　felony。
　　〃Each　founding　crew　had　excuses。　Tales　of　persecution　or　neglect。　All　burned　and　sank　their　ships；　threw　their　godlike　tools　into　the　Great　Midden；　and　warned　their　offspring　to　beware　the　sky。
　　〃From　the　sky　would　e　judgment；　someday…for　the　crime　of　survival。〃
　　The　sun　crept　past　the　Egg's　bulk；　stabbing　a　corner　of　his　eye。　He　escaped　by　leaning　toward　his　audience。
　　〃Our　ancestors　invaded　a　world　that　was　set　aside　after　ages　of　hard　use。　A　world　needing　time　for　its　many　species；　both　native　and　artificial；　to　find　restored　balance；　from　which　new　wonders　might　emerge。　The　civilization　of　the　Five　Galaxies　has　used　these　rules　to　protect　life　since　before　half　of　the　stars　we　see　came　alight。
　　〃So　why　did　our　ancestors　flout　them？〃
　　Each　g'Kek　pilgrim　watched　him　with　two　eyestalks　raised　far　apart　and　the　other　two　tucked　away；　a　sign　of　intense　interest。　The　typical　urrish　listener　pointed　her　narrow　head　not　toward　Lark's　face　but　his　midriff；　to　keep　his　center　of　mass　in　view　of　all　three　black　slits　surrounding　her　narrow　snout。　Lark's　rewq　highlighted　these　signs；　and　others　from　hoon；　traeki；　and　qheuen。
　　They're　with　me　so　far；　he　saw。
　　〃Oh；　our　ancestors　tried　to　minimize　the　harm。　Our　settlements　lie　in　this　narrow；　geologically　violent　zone；　in　hopes　that　volcanoes　will　someday　cover　our　works；　leaving　no　evidence　behind。　The　sages　choose　what　we　may　kill　and　eat；　and　where　to　build；　in　order　to　intrude　lightly　on　Jijo's　rest。
　　〃Still；　who　can　deny　harm　is　done；　each　hour　we　live　here。　Now　rantanoids　go　extinct。　Is　it　our　fault？　Who　knows？　I　doubt　even　the　Holy　Egg　can　tell。〃
　　A　murmur　from　the　crowd。　Colors　flowed　in　the　rewq　veil　over　his　eyes。　Some　literalistic　hoon　thought　he　went　too　far。　Others；　like　the　g'Kek；　were　more　fortable　with　metaphor。
　　Let　their　rewq　handle　the　nuances；　Lark　thought。　Concentrate　on　the　message　itself。
　　〃Our　ancestors　passed　on　excuses；　warnings；　rules。　They　spoke　of　tradeoffs；　and　the　Path　of　Redemption。　But　I'm　here　to　say　that　none　of　it　is　any　good。　It's　time　to　end　the　farce；　to　face　the　truth。
　　〃Our　generation　must　choose。
　　〃We　must　choose　to　be　the　last　of　our　kind　on　Jijo。〃
　　The　journey　back　skirted　dark　caves；　exhaling　glistening　vapors。　Now　and　then；　some　deep　natural　detonation　sent　echoes　rolling　from　one　opening；　then　another；　like　a　rumor　that　dwindled　with　each　retelling。
　　Rolling　downhill　was　easier　for　the　g'Keks。　But　several　traeki；　built　for　life　in　swampy　fens；　chuffed　with　exertion　as　they　twisted　and　turned；　striving　to　keep　up。　In　order　to　ease　the　journey；　hoonish　pilgrims　rumbled　low　atonal　music；　as　they　often　did　at　sea。　Most　pilgrims　no　longer　wore　their　exhausted　rewq。　Each　mind　dwelled　alone；　in　its　own　thoughts。
　　Legend　says　it's　different　among　machine　intelligences；　or　the　Zang。　Group　minds　don't　bother　with　persuasion。　They　just　put　their　heads　together；　unify；　and　decide。
　　It　wouldn't　be　that　easy　convincing　the　mon　citizenry　of　the　Six　to　go　along　with　the　new　heresy。　Deep　instincts　drove　each　race　to　reproduce　as　best　it　could。　Ambition　for　the　future　was　a　natural　trait　for　people　like　his　father。
　　But　not　here；　not　on　this　world。
　　Lark　felt　encouraged　by　this　morning's　meeting。　We'll　convince　a　few　this　year。　Then　more。　First　we'll　be　tolerated；　later　opposed。。。　In　the　long　run；　it　must　be　done　without　violence；　by　consensus。
　　Around　noon；　a　mutter　of　voices　carried　up　the　trail…the　day's　first　regular　pilgrims；　making　an　outward　show　of　reverence　while　still　chattering　about　the　pleasures　of　Gathering。　Lark　sighted　white…robed　figures　beyond　some　vapor　fumaroles。　The　leaders　called　greetings　to　Lark's　group；　already　returning　from　devotions；　and　began　shuffling　aside　to　give　up　right　of　way。
　　A　crack　of　thunder　struck　as　the　two　parties　passed　alongside；　slamming　their　bodies　together　and　flapping　their　robes。　Hoons　crouched；　covering　their　ears；　and　g'Kek　eyestalks　recoiled。　One　poor　qheuen　skittered　over　the　edge；　clutching　a　gnarled　tree　with　a　single；　desperate　claw。
　　Lark's　first　thought　was　of　another　gas　discharge。
　　When　the　ground　shook；　he　pondered　an　eruption。
　　He　would　later　learn　that　the　noise　came　not　from　Jijo；　but　the　sky。　It　was　the　sound　of　fate　arriving；　and　the　world　he　knew　ing　abruptly　to　an　end；　before　he　ever　expected　it。
　　
　　Asx
　　THOSE　WITHIN　THE　STARSHIP　INDUCED　A　SMALL　opening　in　its　gleaming　side。　Through　this　portal　they　sent　an　emissary；　unlike　anything　the　mons　had　seen　in　living　memory。
　　A　robot！
　　my/our　ring…of…associations　had　to　access　one　of　its　myriad　moist　storage　glands　in　order　to　place　its　contours；　recalling　an　illustration　we/i　once　perused　in　a　human　book。
　　Which　book？　Ah；　thank　you　my　self。　Jane's　Survey　of　Basic　Galactic　Tools。　One　of　the　rarest　surviving　fruits　of　the　Great　Printing。
　　Exactly　as　depicted　in　that　ancient　diagram；　this　floating　mechanism　was　a　black；　octagonal　slab；　about　the　size　of　a　young　qheuen；　hovering　above　the　ground　at　about　the　level　of　my　ring…of…vision；　with　various　gleaming　implements　projecting　above　or　hanging　below。　From　the　moment　the　hatch　closed　behind　it；　the　robot　ignored　every　earthly　contour；　leaving　a　trail　where　grass；　pebbles；　and　loam　were　pressed　flat　by　unseen　heaviness。
　　Wherever　it　approached；　folk　quailed　back。　Just　one　group　of　beings　kept　still；　awaiting　the　creature　of　not…flesh。　We　sages。　Responsibility　was　our　cruel　mooring；　so　adamant　that　even　my　basal　segment　stayed　rigid；　though　it　pulsed　with　craven　need　to　flee。　The　robot…or　its　masters　in　the　ship…thus　knew　who　had　the　right/duty　to　parlay。　It　hesitated　in　front　of　Vubben；　appearing　to　contemplate　our　eldest　sage　for　five　or　six　duras；　perhaps　sensing　the　reverence　we　all　hold　for　the　wisest　of　the　g'Kek。　Then　it　backed　away　to　confront　us　all。
　　i/we　watched　in　mystified　awe。　After　all；　this　was　a　thing；　like　a　hoonish　riverboat　or　some　dead　tool　left　by　the　vanished　Buyur。　Only　the　tools　we　make　do　not　fly；　and　Buyur　remnants　show　no　further　interest　in　doing　so。
　　This　thing　not　only　moved；　it　spoke；　mencing　first　with　a　repeat　of　the　earlier　message。
　　〃Surveying　（local；　unique）　lifeforms；　in　this　we　seek　your　（gracious）　help。
　　〃Knowledge　of　the　（local）　biosphere；　this　you　（assuredly）　have。
　　〃Tools　and　（useful）　arts；　these　we　offer　in　trade。
　　〃Confidentiality；　shall　we　（mutually）　exchange？〃
　　Our　rewq　were　useless…shriveling　away　from　the　intense　flux　of　our　distress。　We　sages　nonetheless　held　conference。　By　agreement；　Vubben　rolled　forward；　his　roller…wheels　squeaking　with　age。　In　a　show　of　discipline；　all　eyestalks　turned　toward　the　alien　device；　though　surely　oversurfeited　with　its　frightening　stimulus。
　　〃Poor　castaways；　are　we；〃　he　menced　reciting；　in　the　syncopated　pops　and　clicks　of　formal　Galactic　Two。　Although　our　urrish　cousins　find　that　language　easiest　and　use　it　among　themselves；　all　conceded　that　Vubben；　the　g'Kek；　was　peerless　in　his　mastery　of　the　grammar。
　　Especially　when　it　came　to　telling　necessary　lies。
　　〃Poor　castaways；　ignorant　and　stranded。
　　〃Delighted　are　we。　Ecstatic　at　this　wondrous　thing。
　　〃Advent　of　rescue！〃
　　
　　Sara
　　SOME　DISTANCE　BELOW　DOLO　VILLAGE；　THE　river　felt　its　way　through　a　great　marsh　where　even　hoon　sailors　were　known　to　lose　the　main　channel；　snagging　on　tree　roots　or　ing　aground　on　shifting　sandbars。　Normally；　the　brawny；　patient　crew　of　the　dross…hauler　Hauph…woa　would　count　on　wind　and　the　river's　rhythmic　rise…and…fall　to　help　them　slip　free。　But　these　weren't　normal　times。　So　they　folded　their　green　cloaks…revealing　anxious　mottles　across　their　lumpy　backbone　ridges…and　pushed　the　Hauph…woa　along　with　poles　made　of　lesser…boo。　Even　passengers　had　to　assist；　now　and　then；　to　keep　the　muddy　bottom　from　seizing　the　keel　and　holding　them　fast。　The　uneasy　mood　affected　the　ship's　contingent　of