assigned small tasks—checking data and adding ship records that had allowed him to sample bits of the mandate. “It’s mandated that we have records,” he explained, “and what we have, you see, is man-data.” He smiled. “That’s a joke,” he said. “Sort of.”
Prufrax nodded solemnly. “So where do we come from?”
“Earth, of course,” Clevo said. “Everyone knows that.”
“I mean, where do we come from you and I, the crew.”
“Breeding division. Why ask? You know.”
“Yes.” She frowned, concentrating. “I mean, we don’t come from the same place as the Senexi. The same way.”
“No, that’s foolishness.”
She saw that it was foolishness the Senexi were different all around. What was she struggling to ask? “Is their fib like our own?”
“Fib? History’s not a fib. Not most of it, anyway. Fibs are for unreal. History is overfib.”
She knew, in a vague way, that fibs were unreal. She didn’t like to have their comfort demeaned, though. “Fibs are fun,” she said. “They teach Zap.”
“I suppose,” Clevo said dubiously. “Being noncombat, I don’t see Zap fibs.”
Fibs without Zap were almost unthinkable to her. “Such dull,” she said.
“Well, of course you’d say that. I might find Zap fibs dull—think of that?”
“We’re different,” she said. “Like Senexi are different.”
Clevo’s jaw hung open. “No way. We’re crew. We’re human. Senexi are…” He shook his head as if fed bitters.
“No, I mean…” She paused, uncertain whether she was entering unallowed territory. “You and I, we’re fed different, given different moans. But in a big way we’re different from Senexi. They aren’t made, nor do they act as you and I. But…” Again it was difficult to express. She was irritated. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
A tellman walked down the path, not familiar to Prufrax. He held out his hand for Clevo, and Clevo grasped it. “It’s amazing,” the tellman said, “how you two gravitate to each other. Go, elfstate,” he addressed Prufrax. “You’re on the wrong greenroad.”
She never saw the young researcher again. With glover training underway, the itches he aroused soon faded, and Zap resumed its overplace.
The Senexi had ways of knowing humans were near. As information came in about fleets and individual cruisers less than one percent nebula diameter distant, the seedship seemed warmer, less hospitable. Everything was UV with anxiety, and the new branch ind on the wall had to be shielded by a special silicate cup to prevent distortion. The brood mind grew a corniculum automatically, though the toughened outer membrane would be of little help if the seedship was breached.
Aryz had buried his personal confusion under a load of work. He had penetrated the human memory store deeply enough to find instructions on its use. It called itself a mandate (the human word came through the interface as a correlated series of radiated symbols), and even the simple preliminary directions were difficult for Aryz. It was like swimming in another family’s private sea, though of course infinitely more alien; how could he connect with experiences never had, problems and needs never encountered by his kind?
He could speak some of the human languages in several radio frequencies, but he hadn’t yet decided how he was going to produce modulated sound for the human shapes. It was a disturbing prospect. What would he vibrate? A permeum could vibrate subtly—such signals were used when branch inds joined to form the brood mind but he doubted his control would ever be subtle enough. Sooner expect a human to communicate with a Senexi by controlling the radiations of its nervous system! The humans had distinct organs within their breathing passages that produced the vibrations; perhaps those structures could be mimicked. But he hadn’t yet studied the dead shapes in much detail.
He observed the new branch ind once or twice each watch
Prufrax nodded solemnly. “So where do we come from?”
“Earth, of course,” Clevo said. “Everyone knows that.”
“I mean, where do we come from you and I, the crew.”
“Breeding division. Why ask? You know.”
“Yes.” She frowned, concentrating. “I mean, we don’t come from the same place as the Senexi. The same way.”
“No, that’s foolishness.”
She saw that it was foolishness the Senexi were different all around. What was she struggling to ask? “Is their fib like our own?”
“Fib? History’s not a fib. Not most of it, anyway. Fibs are for unreal. History is overfib.”
She knew, in a vague way, that fibs were unreal. She didn’t like to have their comfort demeaned, though. “Fibs are fun,” she said. “They teach Zap.”
“I suppose,” Clevo said dubiously. “Being noncombat, I don’t see Zap fibs.”
Fibs without Zap were almost unthinkable to her. “Such dull,” she said.
“Well, of course you’d say that. I might find Zap fibs dull—think of that?”
“We’re different,” she said. “Like Senexi are different.”
Clevo’s jaw hung open. “No way. We’re crew. We’re human. Senexi are…” He shook his head as if fed bitters.
“No, I mean…” She paused, uncertain whether she was entering unallowed territory. “You and I, we’re fed different, given different moans. But in a big way we’re different from Senexi. They aren’t made, nor do they act as you and I. But…” Again it was difficult to express. She was irritated. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
A tellman walked down the path, not familiar to Prufrax. He held out his hand for Clevo, and Clevo grasped it. “It’s amazing,” the tellman said, “how you two gravitate to each other. Go, elfstate,” he addressed Prufrax. “You’re on the wrong greenroad.”
She never saw the young researcher again. With glover training underway, the itches he aroused soon faded, and Zap resumed its overplace.
The Senexi had ways of knowing humans were near. As information came in about fleets and individual cruisers less than one percent nebula diameter distant, the seedship seemed warmer, less hospitable. Everything was UV with anxiety, and the new branch ind on the wall had to be shielded by a special silicate cup to prevent distortion. The brood mind grew a corniculum automatically, though the toughened outer membrane would be of little help if the seedship was breached.
Aryz had buried his personal confusion under a load of work. He had penetrated the human memory store deeply enough to find instructions on its use. It called itself a mandate (the human word came through the interface as a correlated series of radiated symbols), and even the simple preliminary directions were difficult for Aryz. It was like swimming in another family’s private sea, though of course infinitely more alien; how could he connect with experiences never had, problems and needs never encountered by his kind?
He could speak some of the human languages in several radio frequencies, but he hadn’t yet decided how he was going to produce modulated sound for the human shapes. It was a disturbing prospect. What would he vibrate? A permeum could vibrate subtly—such signals were used when branch inds joined to form the brood mind but he doubted his control would ever be subtle enough. Sooner expect a human to communicate with a Senexi by controlling the radiations of its nervous system! The humans had distinct organs within their breathing passages that produced the vibrations; perhaps those structures could be mimicked. But he hadn’t yet studied the dead shapes in much detail.
He observed the new branch ind once or twice each watch
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