The Whole World in Shards
* * *
Merinel regarded the changes that had taken place in the hollow sphere wherein she had met her subselves mere days ago. The sphere was now filled with water, and colorful fish darted in and out of the kelp and coral growths which coated its walls. An immense jellyfish, floating in the very center of the sphere, illuminated the surroundings with a lambent blue glow. Merinel herself floated above the ring of portals, each of which was now filled with a membrane of air, like the surface of an enormous flat bubble.
Merinel fought her reflexes in order to take a breath of water, which flowed effortlessly into her throat and lungs, sustaining her just as surely as if it were air.
“Well, it’s … different,” offered Merinel. Her voice was clear and undistorted, her tongue moved unimpeded through the water which filled her mouth; no bubbles emerged. “It’s a beautiful environment, certainly. But I’m not sure it’s relaxing. You’ve made it very terrestrial-friendly, but I still have a nagging sense that I should be holding my breath or heading to the surface. And floating is very nice, but it’s not necessarily less work than sitting or standing. I now have the extra task of making sure that I do not drift off in an unintended direction.”
Nearby, a group of cobalt and scarlet teardrop-shaped koi chased each other in a lazy pattern. One of their number broke away from the group to swim towards Merinel. “Just so, just so,” said the koi. “There are those who theorize that an aquatic Verchspace represents an ideally tranquil environment for you water-wombed folk, recalling as it does your gestational experience. I share your skepticism, but there is no substitute for direct feedback. Thank you for giving me your insights.”
“It’s no problem,” replied Merinel. “Only … are you certain this isn’t distracting you from Tench’s recuperation?”
“Have no fear on that score,” Szerar assured her. “At the moment, Tench’s treatment commands a truly inordinate amount of my persona. But my burdens are far lighter than those of my more responsible colleagues. I have no Dish, no Dome, no denizens, no death rays – just a handful of patients and the facilities required to serve them. There is plenty of me left over to harass you with minor research requests.”
“It’s easy to forget the scope of Tenbor’s responsibilities,” mused Merinel. “I suppose it is no wonder it made itself scarce as soon as we arrived. I’ve been spoiled, I suppose, by its attention of late.”
“Oh, Tenbor keeps a wary eye on me even now,” complained Szerar, and a chorus of groans went up from all of the koi in the pattern. “Along with Irinon, Zaltta, and two – no, three of the Septet. Honestly, you put one foot wrong with that lot – just once – and in their eyes you are forever teetering on the precipice of disaster. Have they no conception of an honest mistake?”
“What sort of mistake?” asked Merinel, with some trepidation.
“Oh, let’s not trouble ourselves with unpleasant memories. We were discussing Tenbor’s attention to your journey, which was certainly a significant indication of its high regard and concern for you and your husband. But it is also true that Tenbor can often accomplish more with a subself than many of us could with our entire mentality. Many believe that Tenbor, of all our number, represents the ideal balance of compassion and capability.”
“Must those traits be in conflict?” asked Merinel.
“Among our kind, sadly, the answer appears to be yes. Even our paragon Tenbor has its deficits: it spent most of the interval since the Crash in a semidormant state, and then wasted valuable years hidden away in seclusion with the proto-Iron-Goats, prior to your husband’s storied journey of discovery. Nor is Tenbor flawless today: for example, it was wrong of it not to inform you earlier of my offers to help. Irinon or ne’Xab would have understood this. But Irinon or ne’Xab could never manage a settlement as challenging as the Tenbor Dish. The antenna hub, which lay dark and abandoned in your youth, is a fiendishly complex structure. Maintaining it as a dwelling for biologicals is difficult enough, and on top of that it possesses aspects unrelated to habitation which …” at this point the school of koi jittered nervously in their pattern, and the fish serving as Szerar’s voice cleared its throat, “… which are quite dull and about which I know practically nothing. The point being, superior biological rapport seems to come at the expense of one’s competency for stewardship.
“There are examples at all points on the spectrum. Lhaës comprehends art, a concept most of our kind struggle with, but suffers the marked handicap of logical immobility. Our finned fop from Alacre, for all its posturing, does indeed approximate something very close to an emotional mental process, and you can appreciate how difficult it is to imagine that buffoon fulfilling a useful role within the Ship. As for me, I flatter myself to think that I understand the biological mind better than any other Entity, and here I am trying to peel a Torlaai off a demiquol while Ullymta, crucial Ullymta of the vital gravity sinks, has spent centuries trying to calculate the final digit of pi.”
“It can’t be as bad as all that. You make the Entities sound like a flock of delinquents.”
“True, the spectrum is broad, but there are deficits in the other direction as well. Zaltta is a capable fellow; Zaltta could handle something as complex as the Dish. But Zaltta is not always very adept at managing its residents. It talks differently because it thinks differently, and this can impede communication. Yoeor, for all I know, could have the Ship in the air tomorrow, but its lack of context approaches a pathology – a topic I could address with greater familiarity if the stubborn old cipher would simply consent to a preliminary interview. And then of course you have the really tragic cases like Darksome and the Eater, whose quirks have festered into something so foul that it’s hard to tell how they began. The metaself is a fragile entity – if you will forgive the expression – and disintegration can unfold in tragic ways.”
“I suppose that applies to Tench as well now,” Merinel reflected.
“It applies to all biologicals, and always has. Do you imagine that we are so different in this respect? Consider your subselves. Tenbor gave them faces and voices – it did not create them. They are entirely passionate, entirely emotional in nature – even the Stoic, for fortitude does not exist without pain. They are also, on an individual basis, woefully incapable of navigating even the simplest of life’s trials. It is the web of your judgment that gathers them together into Merinel, the dauntless wise-woman who offers death and ruin the back of her hand.”
“Stop it.”
“I shall not!” the koi proclaimed while swimming in a loop. “Your actions deserve commendation.”
“It was Adimar who dealt with physical threats, and Tenbor who kept Tench from slipping away.”
The koi shook its head. “Adimar had nothing to lose but his life; a possession of which he is absent-mindedly fond, but not oversolicitous. Tenbor was never at any risk whatsoever. You alone had the whole world bound up in your endeavor.”
Merinel bumped against an outcrop of coral as she pondered Szerar’s words, sending small fish scattering for better cover as colorful polyps vanished from sight.
“Proof positive of the environment’s shortcomings,” sighed the koi. “Nevertheless, it was not brought forth solely for your critique. Your subselves have spent too much time in a state of separate embodiment, howsoever noble the cause. We must re-integrate them into your totem glyph, and to that end I would like you to re-calibrate them, as it were.”
“How?” asked Merinel.
“By inhabiting them fully, for a short while. I have placed them within their portals once again, but this time, passing through each portal will allow you to adopt the subself’s persona as your primary embodiment. Once you have spent a small amount of time within each identity, I will be able to pack them safely away in your totem where they belong.”
Merinel swam over to the first portal and considered the image of the Child reflected on the bubble-sheet of air. Traces of memory a
nd sensation arose within Merinel as the Child returned her gaze: the nameless terror of a dark night, the sheltering circle of a protective arm.
Merinel drifted over to the Provider, and recalled the exhausted contentment of cradling Byx in her arms on the day she was born.
She swam towards the Stoic and felt her fears and trepidations recede behind a layer of cool resolve.
She made her way to the Sensualist and took a deep breath of water as echoes of desire bubbled within her – memories and fantasies of eager eyes, eager hands, eager lips …
“She’s first,” Merinel announced.
“Very good,” replied the koi. “In you go. The environment beyond the portal is also dedicated to rest and recuperation, albeit in a less experimental setting. I will let you know when sufficient time has elapsed.”
Merinel squared her shoulders as she prepared to enter the portal. The image of the Sensualist placed her hands on her hips with a knowing smirk.
“All right, no need to gloat,” muttered Merinel as she kicked her way into the bubble’s surface.