Page 14 of Sentenced to Prism

  "Talker," Azure said tersely, and went on to explain that the living switchboards enabled members of the Asso­ciative to stay in touch with each other over considerable distances.

  "Mobile relay stations," Evan murmured.

  "I don't know what that is. Talkers talk, that's all."

  Evan watched as scanners scrambled up and down walls and talkers to study the terrain outside the Asso­ciative. They consisted almost entirely of enormous mul­tiple lenses mounted on short afterthought bodies. Silicate tentacles enabled them to climb sheer smooth surfaces. Scanners, Azure explained, always tried to stay close to talkers in case some threat manifested itself close to the Associative.

  An injured Elect lay on the ground with a smaller crea­ture standing over it. The busy one was a physician, Azure informed him. It had been provided with an array of spe­cialized forelimbs and a highly sensitive touch.

  "Who runs all this?" Evan made a sweeping gesture with one hand. "Who tells the walls when to rise and the warriors where to position themselves? Where are your rulers?"

  "Rulers?"

  "Yes. Isn't someone in charge here? Don't you have a chief or king or premier or something who tells everyone else what to do?"

  Azure's response was full of surprise and confusion. As he replied Evan noted that they had acquired a small entourage consisting of a couple of off‑duty walls, several gatherers, one lumbering processor, and a physician.

  "The Associative makes all its own decisions," Azure summed up finally.

  "Yes, of course, but who makes the final decisions for all the Associative? I'm afraid I still don't understand."

  "You are not paying attention. New information is col­lected by scouts and scanners, who relay it to the talkers. The talkers inform all the rest of the Associative simul­taneously. Discussion follows until a consensus is reached."

  "Does everyone's opinion carry the same weight? You said the walls were pretty dumb. Does a wall's opinion have the same weight as that of a physician?"

  "Naturally not, but there are few physicians and many walls. Everyone's opinion is taken into consideration before a decision affecting the Associative is made."

  "So instead of hierarchy you have anarchy."

  "I understand the term and it does not apply to the Associative. There can be no anarchy where there is rea­son."

  This is swell, Evan thought. I'm standing here debating political philosophy with a glass caterpillar by means of antenna stuck into my feeble mind. Furthermore, I am enjoying it.

  The Associative, he decided, had been responsible for the development of intelligent life on Prism. Creatures like walls and flects, who could survive but not progress on their own beyond a certain point, made great strides mentally when they functioned in harmony with and close proximity to more intelligent individuals like physicians. For their part, the more fragile and vulnerable physicians and processors survived and prospered and developed their brains under the protection afforded by more prim­itive types like the walls.

  Did such a cooperative facilitate reproduction? Though he referred to Azure as a "he," it was a facile more than a descriptive term. Azure was distinctly asexual in atti­tude. What of creatures like the flects and conduits?

  "What do you do when someone dies?"

  "You mean, when a member of the Associative loses mind function? When that occurs a relative is designated to produce another of its own kind." Azure had them detour long enough for Evan to see a wall in the process of growing a replica of itself. Sure enough, a tiny hexagon was emerging from the back side of its mature parent. The process was more like budding than any other repro­ductive process he could think of.

  "How shall I describe you to others?" Azure asked him when they'd resumed their previous course. "You carry out multiple functions. That is a difficult concept for many to grasp. A wall or digger could not empathize."

  Evan considered, said finally, "In function I suppose I'm closest to you. Just call me a scout." Azure was delighted. "It's not all that farfetched," Evan went on. "I belong to an organization similar to an Associative back home, and it's my job to move about and make useful new discoveries for it." They were approaching the far side of the central hillock. He could make out a dark opening set in bare rock.

  "Where are we going, anyway?"

  "You need to be studied. I found you and brought you back, but I am not equipped to make suggestions about you nor to decide how to proceed."

  "Oh, so?" Evan was suddenly wary. "Studied by whom?" Visions of extensive if oh‑so‑polite vivisection filled his thoughts. There wasn't much he could do to prevent the Associative from taking such actions, not now. He couldn't scale the glassy barrier enclosing the com­munity and he doubted the walls would step aside to let him through.

  "By the libraries, of course."

  "Ah." He relaxed a little. If Azure had referred to the physicians or the warriors, Evan's apprehension would have intensified, but there's something innocuous and reassuring about a creature called a library.

  "Under here." Azure directed him to the shallow cave, more of a stone overhang really, that was filled with bright light thanks to the efforts of dozens of nearby flects. A talker stood patiently nearby.

  The opening was barely high enough for a stooping Evan to enter. The floor had been lined with clean white sand. The flects immediately realigned themselves to bounce the light around his bulk.

  Squatting in the center of that waterfall of sunlight were three figures. Their six legs looked too thin and weak to support their rounded, pebbled bodies. Eighteen eyes of varying size stared up at him. From the front of each head, several long hornlike organs swept up and back to rest on the rear of each two‑meter‑long torso. Evan won­dered at their function. Not sexual ornamentation, obviously, and since it seemed unlikely that libraries would be expected to defend themselves, probably not weapons either. Some kind of storage facility? He would have to ask Azure.

  He sat down and waited. One of the trio was munching on a pile of what looked like copper shavings. It was connected to the other two by tendrils similar to the pair dangling from Evan's left ear. For private conversation, Azure explained.

  Was he expected to make the first gesture? No clue was forthcoming from Azure. So Evan leaned forward slightly and extended an open hand in what he hoped was a universally reassuring gesture.

  "Hello." He was well aware the word would mean nothing to these three, but he was offering friendship and greetings the only way he knew hew.

  The nearest library flinched from the extended limb while the third in line emitted a burst of noise.

  "Second Library says for you to make no more unan­nounced movements," Azure informed him hastily. "Do nothing until it has been decided what to do about you."

  "All right." Evan drew back his hand. Only then did he notice the line of warriors that had materialized outside the cave, sitting there like so many black bombs. If the libraries directed them to do so, he didn't have the slight­est doubt they would dismember him in a minute.

  Apparently Azure sensed his nervousness. "Do not worry. I know that you are not dangerous and that you mean only well."

  "Yeah, but you're not giving the orders here."

  "Need I remind you no one gives orders here? Remem­ber that any decision must be arrived at through collective agreement."

  "Even those that have to be made in a hurry?"

  "That is a simple matter when all are in touch through the talkers."

  "But no one's paying any attention to what's going on in here," Evan protested, nodding back out to where dig­gers and gatherers and the rest were going about their daily chores.

  "On the contrary. Everyone is aware of this meeting. They are being informed by the talkers' broadcasts. It is possible to listen, to decide, and to work at the same time. "

  "I see,” Evan muttered, but he still didn't feel com­pletely comfortable. Not with all those warriors and their buzzsaw mouths waiting anxiously just outside.

  M
ore beeps arose from the first library as he resumed his former position. It would help if they had normal eyes, Evan mused. The eyes were the windows to the soul, but he could see nothing behind those bright green and blue multiple lenses. They were no more revealing than the business seed of a camera.

  "'They're afraid of me, aren't they? Haven't you told them there's no reason to be afraid of me?"

  "I have been telling them just that, as well as how we came to meet in the forest and what transpired there between us. They are not afraid of you, Evan. They are merely cautious. That is the nature of libraries.”

  "'The feeling's mutual." More beeps and buzzes. Then it was Azure's turn to sound hesitant.

  "It is not that they don't believe me. They have accepted that you are intelligent despite the fact that you are purely organic, but they will not grant you equal intelligence on my word alone."

  "So what do we do?”

  "They want to communicate with you directly."

  "Now wait a minute." He jerked backward, bumping his head good and hard against the unyielding ceiling. He tapped the left side of his skull. "There's barely enough room in here for you to plug in."

  "It is not that complicated. There is room enough for a talker tendril. With you connected to a talker communication will be possible with the rest of the Associative."

  Evan glanced at the tall spiral‑bodied creature standing outside. Already a single incredibly thin fiber was wend­ing its way over the sand toward him.

  "I have already instructed it how to best make the connection," Azure said, trying to reassure his friend.

  "Well‑if you're sure there won't be any problem..."

  "It is the best way."

  "All right then." Still, Evan tried not to look at the tendril as it snaked up his chest. It was much longer than Azure's, but thinner. He could feel it enter his ear. There was no pain.

  Until the connection was made.

  His hands clapped the sides of his head. His skull had been turned into an amphitheater. He was an actor facing a shouting audience of hundreds, all demanding that he reply to them at once. The furious babble of thoughts threatened to overwhelm him.

  He screamed back at them. "It's not the connection! Everyone's talking to me at once. Please, it's too much, I can't‑!"

  A new voice, more powerful than Azure's, overrode the mob. "This is not a general conference."

  A single vast sigh of acquiescence arose, and the voices vanished. Evan blinked, let out a relieved wheeze.

  The voice came again. "Is that better?"

  Evan glanced down. The thoughts came from the spin­dly library in the middle. They were powerful thoughts, full of confidence, indicative of their progenitor's mental abilities. He saw the library for what it was: not a mul­tihorned crystalline alien but an old and wise intelligence. He was not intimidated by it, though. Evan Orgell thought too highly of himself to be intimidated by anything.

  One thin leg gestured toward Azure. "The scout has explained how you came to meet. He has told us that you are not of our universe."

  "Your world," Evan corrected it, whereupon he launched into a brief discourse on basic astronomy. The libraries listened intently. They had little knowledge of the galaxy beyond Prism, since they were forced into hibernation not long after nightfall. Hard to study the stars when one only sees them for an hour or two after sunset. Evan already understood why Azure held such fear of the night. During that time, he and his kind were utterly help­less.

  When he'd finished, the three libraries caucused to a consensus. "You are welcome among us," the second library informed him. At the same time the warriors who had surrounded the meeting place began to disperse, returning to their usual duty stations. None displayed an inclination to linger. Evan wondered if they were actively repelled by the alien soft thing which had entered their midst.

  "We have little contact with organics," the third library said. "It is hard for us to imagine intelligence arising in such a fragile creature. I cannot imagine how you survived before our scout was able to aid you."

  Evan tried to explain the concept of a manufactured suit. He got no further with the wizened libraries than he had with Azure.

  "This beacon you spoke of earlier," the third library said. "You believe it indicates the presence of another of your own kind?"

  "Or of her body. I'm hoping she has somehow survived the catastrophe which destroyed our research sta . . . our associative and all its members. You wouldn't by any chance have any idea how that might have happened, would you?"

  "The world is a dangerous place," the first library sol­emnly declared. "Only the members of the most alert Associatives can survive in it. Your warriors must not have been attending to their duties."

  "We don't have specialized warriors. At least, none were assigned to the station. Everyone stationed there was trained to carry out more than one function."

  You could almost see the libraries shaking their heads dolefully as they digested this astonishing information. "Multiple functions! How inefficient. The very idea sug­gests self‑induced paranoid complications."

  "Many things could have devastated your Associa­tive," the first library said gently, the only one of the three more interested in providing sympathy than criticism. "You say it has gone away now?"

  "Well, I wasn't bothered. I think whatever destroyed the camp had moved on by the time I arrived."

  "Perhaps your kin will know."

  "If she's still alive. She may have fled into the forest to escape the danger, or maybe she was working there when whatever it was struck the station."

  "You say `if,"' the second library said. "How can she be broadcasting if she is dead?"

  "We don't actually broadcast ourselves. We have arti­ficial, manufactured beacons implanted in our arms. These operate whether or not their owner is alive. They're acti­vated only in an emergency and can be used to locate one another. See?" He stuck out his arm and showed them the steadily glowing chip embedded in his wrist.

  "I knew I heard something," the third library declared. "Such a low frequency!"

  "Almost inaudible," the second agreed. "I can barely hear it."

  "Our talkers are more versatile," the first said.

  "So Azure told me. I was hoping you might be able to place the beacon precisely for me. It would save me a lot of valuable time. Also, if you'd be willing to let Azure come with me I could certainly use his help."

  Again the libraries conferred. Privately, connected to one another by the familiar double tendrils. Finally the first library replied via the talker outside. "We will try to help you, soft thing Evan."

  "I appreciate it. Maybe I can do something in return. When I'm picked up and contact with your people expands, there are many devices which‑"

  "We are not interested in devices," the third library announced. "We are libraries. We are interested in knowl­edge. What you called astronomy: we would know more of it. And organic lifeforms like you, we would know more of their workings. You are full of wonderful new concepts. We would become conversant with them all. Such knowl­edge deserves to be stored for future study, and to be shared among Associatives."

  "Be glad to. But first, if you don't mind, I've got to have something to eat."

  Mealtime didn't slow the endlessly inquisitive libraries down. Between bites, Evan was compelled to explain in great detail the process by which his body converted solid organic matter into chemical energy. The subject was a source of unending fascination to the libraries and he could hardly get a mouthful down before he was bombarded by another half‑dozen questions.

  By early evening everything had been settled. Not only would the Associative's talkers try to triangulate the posi­tion of Ophemert's beacon; Azure would be permitted to accompany Evan for the remainder of his journey. The Associative would also send along a number of additional members to ensure the success of his search. The enthusiastic response to his requests was more than Evan dared hope for. He went to sleep feeling better about hi
s situation than he had at any time since abandoning the MHW.

  One friend accidentally found had led him to a com­munity of allies. Their efforts would save him days of useless crisscrossing back and forth over Prism's danger­ous surface. If Ophemert turned out to be dead, as he expected, he might be able to convince his newfound friends to convoy him all the way back to the station.

  He curled up within the temporary shelter a pair of diggers had prepared for him. Azure lay nearby, discon­nected so Evan could toss and turn unencumbered in his sleep. Half a dozen Elects assembled outside to make sure the last rays of the sun penetrated the excavation. A con­duit wandered over and treated Evan to a long drink of water from which the last trace of minerals had been filtered, then scampered off to accept the waste from a laggard gatherer.

  Evan fully intended to sleep the entire long night, but Prism had other plans in store.

  The sounds were raucous, harsh, and quite unlike any­thing he'd heard so far. They woke him instantly. He experienced that long moment of complete disorientation one suffers upon awakening in a strange place before he recognized the smooth curve of stone overhead, the arch of linked fleets sleeping nearby. Light from all three of the planet's moons illuminated the motionless form of Azure. His coiled communications tendrils glistened in the light.

  The sounds came again. Evan wasn't surprised. Unlike Azure and his friends, unlike the busck and the dancing jewels, there were creatures who could move about Prism's forests all night long‑the organosilicates, hybrid crea­tures with silicate shells and body parts but protein innards. He'd encountered several of them already. The smaller ones he'd eaten.

  The noise continued. Evan crawled out and rose. Within the walls of the Associative nothing else moved. The members had shut down for the night, waiting patiently for the sun to repower their photovoltaic hearts.

  Evan strode out into the moonlight. It didn't take him long to locate the source of the noise.

  Several pieces of wall were lying scattered across the ground, their shells cracked and internal fluids spilled out upon the sand. One of them twitched feebly, its short arms and legs rotating as they sought the familiar interlocking grasp of its fellows, spending what remained of its stored life force in futile, instinctive flailing.