Fish Tails (93 page)

Precious Wind remarked, “I have mentioned my fascination with pre–Big Kill history. There is a historic parallel with today. Those without bao do not see a universal fabric of which they are a part; each of those without bao has his face at the center, his family and friends, radiating from him like the spokes of a wheel, and no one else has importance. There was a cult of this self-­importance on Earth in the twenty-­first century. It was called something like My Face First or See My Face. Those who took part in it were without bao.”

Fixit nodded, remarking, “This is also what Needly was distinguishing among Griffins, those with bao and those without. Is this bao being genetic?”

Silkhands shook her head. “It's a mystery, Fixit. I don't think anyone has been able to determine exactly how it is transmitted. I know children who have it, but I have also seen toddlers whose eyes glow with hunger to consume and use up, and defile. The first word they learn, the last one they utter at the end of a lifetime of greed, is ‘mine'! Yet others get so deep into being the fabric of the universe that they are almost indistinguishable as individual ­people. It is as though they become absorbed into all that is and it shines from them like light.”

There was a long silence that Fixit broke. “You tell it very well.” And it sighed vastly. “Even now?” it said. “Knowing size of universe, age of universe, vastness, number of planets . . . even now some mankinds think they are purpose of universe?”

Grandma stood up and shook herself. “All men don't, no, but it's still being taught, Fixit. It is taught in churches! Oh, not the Kindlies, they wouldn't, but there are others. You can tell the ones who are corrupted by it. Unless a thing serves them in some way, they don't see it at all. And if they see it, it's theirs to destroy.” She sounded as though she wanted to cry, for she had come to feel that the Oracles she had trusted were probably among those who had no bao.

Someone sighed deeply and was echoed by someone else again.

Into the silence came a drowsy, wondering voice from the next room:
“Where's this place?

“Oh, oh, is she hurt?

“Where's Dawn-­song?”

And then, demanding:
“Where's Needly?”

Needly cried out in a mixture of surprise, concern, and joy! Their sleeping medicine hadn't kept him asleep. Willum was awake.

Grandma ran to get Silkhands, who came stumbling with sleep to lay her hands upon the boy immediately, exclaiming that he should not be excited, so the group split up and went off in various directions. Balytaniwassinot took Silkhands aside and spoke with her for a few moments, after which Abasio gently carried the boy into the turtle, where Balytaniwassinot put a piece of equipment over his body, left it there for a few moments, and then invited Silkhands to look at the results.

“The scar's gone?” she cried.

“Could not have done it while foreign substance prevented care. Would not have helped him. But once you and witchery woman had accomplished the impossible, this healer could do things very fast. Keep him quiet for one day. One day is all that is needed.” Of course, with rather extensive reprogramming, the machine could possibly have removed the sawdust and splinters of the yew shaft, but Balytaniwassinot hesitated to think how long that would have taken. If he could have obtained permission to do it at all! Still, it would provide an interesting footnote in his trip report.

Willum could not be convinced Dawn-­song was all right until he was carried, again gently, out to the building where Dawn-­song and Sun-­wings were housed. He wanted to stay there with Dawn-­song and Needly, but was talked into spending a ­couple of days as Wide Mountain Mother's guest, until he was thoroughly healed and would not run the risk of destroying some of what Silkhands still considered to be fragile membranes that were holding parts of his body together. Certainly it would do no harm for him to rest, even though Fixit knew the healing was happening with great rapidity.

It was evening. ­People were weary, even those who had slept during part of the day, Willum, among others, was ensconced in a large, soft bed in Wide Mountain Mother's best guest bedroom, and outside his door were shifts of guards charged with keeping him
placid, unexcited, and quiet for at least one full day.

Before Abasio fell asleep in the wagon, surrounded by his own family, warm in Xulai's arms, his ears full of baby babble of “Illum, Illum, Illum,” he learned of the guards' assignment. His comment, made only to himself, was “Fat chance!”

 

Chapter 16

Fixit's To-­Do List

T
HE TALK ABOUT BAO WAS NOW ON THE
log, and it had sorted ­people very neatly, and even though Fixit had already assigned most of the ­people and creatures it had met into bao and nonbao categories, having it on the logs would give him official sanction. Everything falling into place so neatly had allowed Fixit to sleep very well during the night, and thus refreshed, he was in the proper mood to deal with the Oracles. Abasio had mentioned Grandma's need to know what had happened to her children, which Fixit had foreseen. Indeed, it was the one episode in this entire plan that Fixit felt ashamed of. He simply had not been able to think of any other way to do it! Nor had his partner in the endeavor, one well known to Grandma, who had been in on it almost from the beginning!

Fixit asked both Abasio and Grandma to make the trip, using the Listener as an excuse. They should learn the way things could be ordered through the Listener. Fixit had spent large pieces of the previous century planning this particular visit, and it hoped to wind up all the unfinished business before it left. After the centuries it had spent (
which it never would admit to, no, not even under torture
), Fixit was not leaving with things half solved, merely hoping they would work out. Right now it would focus on Abasio and Grandma and the other one—­Fixit's silent partner, Jay, Grandma's changeable friend—­for it believed that trio could probably carry the project forward . . . even though two of the three knew nothing about it at all.

Besides, Fixit felt a kind of sympathy for both of them. Fixit had been involved in their lives for a very long time. The problem of Earth: the lack of bao; the total idiocy of its environmental destruction; the fact that its inhabitants had come within a knife's edge of killing themselves off (which a majority of the council had approved their doing and had encouraged their getting on with); the fact that that they were, indeed, a plague now spreading into the galaxy. The vote of the Galactic Supreme Council had been so close. Finally it had come down to a simple challenge found in the Order to Exterminate Species.

“ . . . To identify those individuals with bao, present individual mankinds with an extermination problem solvable only through bao, allowing those with bao to survive.”

Naturally, the council was still arguing about what the problem should be, and what the response should be. Left to the council, mankind would have gone extinct before its members made up their minds. Fixit had decided upon an AIS, an Arbitrarily Imposed Solution. Which, of course, had to happen all by itself because Fixit did not intend to lose his rank. Or his sense of self-­approval.

The plea from pathetic little Gaea, the world spirit, had been arranged. Fixit had taken care of that. Then the response of Lom—­Fixit had spent endless days with Ganver, encouraging it to pick up the duties of world spirit, continue the weeding out of the humans, saving the bao ones: the presence of the three women who had come from Lom was indicative that some of them were capable, useful, and appropriate and should be allowed to live and reproduce. Then the request to Squamutch had been arranged. And the subsequent flooding, timed very carefully to allow adjustment. (During the same elapsed time it had taken Fixit to accomplish this, the council had called to order seven hundred and eighty-­seven committee and subcommittee sessions to decide what should happen on Earth.)

All that, climaxing in the last, final, most important thing: the response of mankind—­at least of the better ones of the race. To meet the challenge, they had to choose to
change themselves to fit the environment
rather than yet again trying to force the environment to accommodate them. AND delightfully enough,
they had to do it individually
!

None of the humans involved realized what a memorable decision this had been. The betting among galactic workers had been nine to two against. No Earthlings knew that decision was the only thing that had allowed mankind's existence to continue. The real threat had been “change or be eradicated,” and the decision had to be made now, not two hundred years from now.
Only the ones with bao would swallow sea-­eggs and make the change, only the ones who would make the change now would survive to reproduce sea-­children.
Those who would not change would die
. And, of course, there was still the final problem. That final threat was still there. The final question hadn't been asked yet.

Some of them would be told, of course. It was up to Fixit to decide who and when. It had previously thought it would be Abasio and Grandma; it had added a few names to those two. All of them had dedicated their lives and had suffered extreme losses. They had proved capable of self-­sacrifice. It did not seem to Fixit that their labor had been appropriately recognized! Well, it couldn't be, really. The true story might never be allowed to surface. Still, Balytaniwassinot was determined to “Fixit.” Let, as it were, the quizzinogs out of the carrying sack for a few persons to deal with. Not just yet. A few were not quite ready yet. But it would make friends and see how things developed.

“I have received award,” Fixit announced to Abasio and Grandma. “My name, Fixit, is name Self was given for thinking up method Self calls MIF, which stands for Massive Immediate Fix.”

The two humans exchanged puzzled glances but seemed interested.

“I will explain,” said Fixit. “I am agent, you know? Agents have come to Earth for a very long time. Always before, agent received what you might call niggles? You know niggles?”

Grandma said thoughtfully, “You mean, ­people complaining about something, not screaming emergency or anything, just sort of whining about it. Griping, we call it.”

Fixit nodded. Tan had perfected the nod and other human bodily signs in front of a large mirror. Also frowns, sneers, “shrugs”—­a raised shoulder movement indicating puzzlement. Humans still used a great variety of prespeech signals. “Griping, yes, good word. And what is usually done about niggles?”

“Usually nothing. ­People are busy, they have more urgent things to do . . .”

“Exactly. This is way things were done in my environment, also. Niggles came, no one did anything. Niggles accumulated. No one did anything. Finally niggles became, as you say, emergency. Or some disaster happened but no one connected disaster to niggles. You understand?”

“You're saying a lot of time was lost, a lot of effort expended, sometimes even lives were lost or, maybe, planets ruined because no one took action,” said Grandma.

“Exactly! So, in my program each niggle is examined to see if it is what you call ‘balloon' or ‘seed'! Balloon is much air inside nothing much, seed is something that may grow like weed and put roots halfway to center of planet! And if is seed, no matter how tiny a seed, have machine to examine for what might happen. If machine says ‘whoops,' this means look at seed very carefully. Sometimes ‘whoops' is whole millennium away. Century is quite common. More usual is like large part lifetime. When do you think is time to handle ‘whoops'?”

“While you can still sweep it into the dustpan,” said Grandma.

“Right. And burn it right now, before it blows away,” said Abasio.

“Even if whoops is many, many years away?”

Both its guests nodded, glancing at each other, smiling, as though both remembered things that should have been handled a long time ago.

Fixit said, “So, is of my mind entirely so. Niggles become item one of my system. Check every niggle and do it as far in advance of trouble as possible. Even if trouble is lifetimes away. Then Massive Immediate Fix may never be needed.” He heaved something very much like a sigh.

“Used to be galactic officers went to problem area. Might be three problems, three different planets, not far apart, but Agent Arp might be assigned to planet one, Agent Berp went to planet two, Agent Carp went to planet three. All close together, wormhole close, you understand? So Agent Arp found out what was problem, he needed item Arp-­item-­one for little job and worker Arp-­worker-­one, who knows how to install item. Went on with problem, found needed another item for another little job, sent for Arp-­item-­two, worked way down list.

“Meantime, Agent Berp, nearby, requisitions Berp-­item-­one and Berp-­item-­two. Items get mixed up. Item Arp-­item-­one arrives in Berp system, agent there did not requisition, returns item. Meantime, nearby, Agent Carp has also ordered same item, which at that moment is quite close but in process of being returned far away.

“Now both Arp and Carp waiting for same item. Worker Arp-­worker-­one, arriving at Arp site, is knowing how to use Arp-­item-­one, but that item not present. Arp-­worker-­one gets disgusted, leaves to do emergency job elsewhere. First agent still waiting for item. Eventually worker and item arrive in same system, by that time agent has moved on, no one remembers what problem was. And so on.”

“Sounds likely to me,” said Abasio. Grandma nodded.

Fixit continued: “Was not unusual! Unfortunate, but not unusual. Self did study. Counted time spent, time wasted, time other jobs delayed because of equipment not on hand, workers coming and going, different workers doing exact same jobs in close-­by areas, wormhole traffic heavy back and forth, back and forth. Superiors granted permission for Self to try MIF. Massive Immediate Fix.

“Next job: Self requisitions one Massive Fabricator, six analysis experts, one skill gathering—­this is group of ­people, usually of very different races of creature, whose skills reinforce and supplement one another. A skill gathering is very powerful, very time-­consuming to bring together (such creatures have many commitments), but once together, immensely able to quickly make statement:
These things should be done.
No hang-­ups problems with a skill gathering—­do not confuse this with ordinary committee, which requires no expertise from members, talks forever without getting anything done. In skill gathering, no one wastes words: what one does not know, another does. Each one speaks
only to own field of expertise.
Says it one time only: ‘Do this!' Gets up and leaves when it has said. Then scheduling manager fits what each one said into plan.

“Also, Self brings much other equipment. Self gets all problem areas located, fifty, sixty areas. Self divides them into clusters by contiguity, anywhere from three to five is good so long as they are close together. We go to one cluster of three locations. Self takes one GDE, that is ‘galactic day equivalent,' for using skill gathering. Using same, we determine base cause of niggle in each place, see likelihood of disaster projection, and analyze corrective measures on three separate planets, each member says what must be done, then skill gathering sent on to next cluster. Meantime orders are sent to Massive Fabricator same day, workers briefed late that same day. Second day, all material and workers delivered, self-­generating process begins and will continue; third day inspector looks at fix process, tweaks if necessary, and we are on way to next cluster. Fixed processes are checked at intervals thereafter, to be sure proceeding as planned.

“Estimate to do each cluster the normal way, half year, galactic time. My way, three GDEs. Normal expense, each single one, ten times what my way cost for all three. Self presents report to high panel. High panel says wait until we see if it works. I go on with other projects; eventually high panel says, yes, it works, you are given name FIXIT. Teach others how to use. Now everyone but old gnafflesnorts does it Fixit way.

“Gnafflesnorts claim there was no problem to fix in two of three places. Self points out that niggle on first world indicates an irreversible planet-­wide famine within one hundred years. Niggle on other world indicates all life will be wiped out before end of century due to war between and among three races fighting over living space; trees used by one race being cut down to make room for burrows used by another race, both being killed by water-­living race seeking to flood both areas.”

“Let me guess,” said Grandma. “Gnafflesnorts were not comfortable dealing with likelihood or probability.”

Fixit whooped. “Gnafflesnorts unable to act on anything short of world being covered with rotting bodies. At that time they are happy to meet, shake heads or other body parts, saying equivalent of tsk-tsk, then issue report saying what might have been done earlier, along with interdiction of planet until life reemerges, when and if!

“Gnafflesnorts are immutable, unchanging, rather die than change, soon will die, so those identified as gnafflesnorts are now given only twiddly little problems that are not really problems and everyone lets them alone, happily talking forever how to solve nothing much.”

“Why do you use them at all?” Abasio asked.

Fixit drew itself up and adopted a strongly judgmental expression. “Why, good-­ness gra-­cious, gnafflesnorts very im-­por-­tant crea-­tures. Related to other very im-­por-­tant crea-­tures, like head of council or vice president. Cannot do without gnafflesnorts. Gnafflesnorts must be allowed to die in office. You know syndrome?”

This oration had taken up most of the time needed to reach the House of the Oracles. The ship took up most of the clearing next to the sign and bell, and Fixit dropped the ramp onto the path. Fixit pointed a device at the bell, which rang and went on ringing. When an Oracle appeared, the Fixit told it to get its whole group, person, singularity out here where he could look at it. Grandma was watching from inside the flier. If the news was . . . really bad, she wanted to be able to cry without anyone looking at her. She stood at the top of the ramp, grasped Abasio's hand, and held on to it as though she were drowning. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

The Oracles came out, a few at a time, forming a small group that got larger and larger. Abasio stopped counting at fifty, for he noticed a strange thing happening. The ones at the center of the group began to lose shape, to amalgamate, drawing others in at the edges, the process continuing, until by the time the last ones had joined the group, the Oracle was one large lump of gray something, perhaps six or eight man heights wide and one very short man height tall, covered with silvery hair. During this process he felt Grandma shaking beside him, her face expressing pain, disappointment, dislike . . . fear!