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Authors: Sheri S. Tepper
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since. I was only six, but I still remember her face as I watch the recording, Matty dancing blissfully from one section of the wall to another, here, there, everywhere, before she finally settled into the methodical, meticulous work that produced the final album.
My original recording includes her voice describing the music she intends to set to each sequence, mentioning the Sono-Visual artist whose augmented vocals should accompany the wind sounds; mentioning the dancers to be costumed as the lost Martians; the creature artist who will animate the other beings.
When we got home, she was still ecstatic. As soon as we were out of our XT suits, she pulled me into her arms and held me, whispering into my ear. âThey had dogs, Joosie! Imagine that! They had dogs! Or something like.â
âLike my Faithful Doggy, Matty? Like in the Animal Book?â
âJust like in the Animal Book. âDutiful and diligent, man-friend, dog.ââ
I hadnât seen them on the screen, for their bones were deep in dust. She didnât describe them to me until later. People bones. Dog bones. Not exactly like people now or dogs now, but very similar, lying near the carvings, the peopleâs arms around the dog bones, their heads laid close, the way I slept with my Faithful Dog at night when I needed comforting. The cavern was the only evidence anyone has ever found of the Martians, the last ones, the few thousand of them in the cavern possibly all there were, gathered into that place to die together.
Though it had seemed a short time to both of us, Matty had stayed down there long enough for cavern air to leak through a fault in her XT suit. It carried a virus with it, something unknown, something fatal. Later on it turned out that Matty hadnât actually discovered the caverns, sheâd just rediscovered them. When the experts magnified the wall scans they saw faint Zhaar seals on the wall, which meant the Zhaar had been there, long, long ago. Matty just laughed, and said it didnât matter, discover or rediscover. Old things often became new things.
She paid a researcher to do a search of Interstellar Confederation Archives for any records the Zhaar might have left concerning the cavern. The researcher found a pictorial record of the Martian carvings, done some fifty thousand years ago or so, along with a translation into Panqoin, written well before humans were painting horses on cave walls. The Panqoin had been allies of the Tsifis, a people who left our galaxy when we were in the middle Stone Age, and the archives had Panqoin-Tsifis transliterations. The Tsifis had in turn mentored the Gendeber, a race now extinct but contemporary with early Bronze Age man. In the Gendebersâ last years they had been visited by the Phain, and the Phain were still alive. So, the researcher translated the Panqoin to Tsifis, the Tisifis to Gendeber, and the Gendeber to Phainic, and from Phainic to Earthian common speech so Matty could get her translation and make songs out of it.
Joram used to tease her: âIt started out as roast beef, became hash, then stew, then soup, and God knows how the final broth resembles the original menu.â
Matty just laughed at him. âIâm sure the translation is close enough, Joram. I recognize the music.â
The song Matty sang when she was dying was the death song of a dying people, Joram said, though he didnât say it in front of Matty. By the time she died, she had most of the visuals and all the music finished, and she left enough notes that Joram could complete the visuals for her. Itâs known as Lipkin Symphony no. 7, the Cavern Symphony, in three movements based on the colors and glories of the great cavern; the wind voices accompanying that long, perilously dark passage; and finally, an ecstatic chorale-ballet that accompanies the final wall. It comes to life and dances its own farewell before remounting the cavern wall and changing back into carvings. At
My original recording includes her voice describing the music she intends to set to each sequence, mentioning the Sono-Visual artist whose augmented vocals should accompany the wind sounds; mentioning the dancers to be costumed as the lost Martians; the creature artist who will animate the other beings.
When we got home, she was still ecstatic. As soon as we were out of our XT suits, she pulled me into her arms and held me, whispering into my ear. âThey had dogs, Joosie! Imagine that! They had dogs! Or something like.â
âLike my Faithful Doggy, Matty? Like in the Animal Book?â
âJust like in the Animal Book. âDutiful and diligent, man-friend, dog.ââ
I hadnât seen them on the screen, for their bones were deep in dust. She didnât describe them to me until later. People bones. Dog bones. Not exactly like people now or dogs now, but very similar, lying near the carvings, the peopleâs arms around the dog bones, their heads laid close, the way I slept with my Faithful Dog at night when I needed comforting. The cavern was the only evidence anyone has ever found of the Martians, the last ones, the few thousand of them in the cavern possibly all there were, gathered into that place to die together.
Though it had seemed a short time to both of us, Matty had stayed down there long enough for cavern air to leak through a fault in her XT suit. It carried a virus with it, something unknown, something fatal. Later on it turned out that Matty hadnât actually discovered the caverns, sheâd just rediscovered them. When the experts magnified the wall scans they saw faint Zhaar seals on the wall, which meant the Zhaar had been there, long, long ago. Matty just laughed, and said it didnât matter, discover or rediscover. Old things often became new things.
She paid a researcher to do a search of Interstellar Confederation Archives for any records the Zhaar might have left concerning the cavern. The researcher found a pictorial record of the Martian carvings, done some fifty thousand years ago or so, along with a translation into Panqoin, written well before humans were painting horses on cave walls. The Panqoin had been allies of the Tsifis, a people who left our galaxy when we were in the middle Stone Age, and the archives had Panqoin-Tsifis transliterations. The Tsifis had in turn mentored the Gendeber, a race now extinct but contemporary with early Bronze Age man. In the Gendebersâ last years they had been visited by the Phain, and the Phain were still alive. So, the researcher translated the Panqoin to Tsifis, the Tisifis to Gendeber, and the Gendeber to Phainic, and from Phainic to Earthian common speech so Matty could get her translation and make songs out of it.
Joram used to tease her: âIt started out as roast beef, became hash, then stew, then soup, and God knows how the final broth resembles the original menu.â
Matty just laughed at him. âIâm sure the translation is close enough, Joram. I recognize the music.â
The song Matty sang when she was dying was the death song of a dying people, Joram said, though he didnât say it in front of Matty. By the time she died, she had most of the visuals and all the music finished, and she left enough notes that Joram could complete the visuals for her. Itâs known as Lipkin Symphony no. 7, the Cavern Symphony, in three movements based on the colors and glories of the great cavern; the wind voices accompanying that long, perilously dark passage; and finally, an ecstatic chorale-ballet that accompanies the final wall. It comes to life and dances its own farewell before remounting the cavern wall and changing back into carvings. At
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