Watchstar (21 page)

Etey reached out and pushed her away. “Help me get him up.”

Daiya shook her head, not understanding.

“Help me.”

“He's dead. I can't touch his mind, it's gone.”

“His lifesuit will preserve him, preserve his body for a time. But I must get him to the shuttle.”

Daiya forced herself to rise. She helped Etey heave the boy's body over her shoulder. Etey strode off, muttering words in another language. Reiho's head rose and fell against the woman's back. Daiya stumbled after them. Etey reached the shuttle and climbed in, closing the door behind her.

Daiya looked at the villagers. Tiny groups were making their way back to the village. Others sat in clumps among the wheat and near the ditches. A few were moaning. She looked around wildly, noticing that several Merging Ones were still lying on the ground, bodies twisted, limbs distended.

A hand touched her shoulder. She jumped back. Cerwen stood near her, Leito just behind him.

—Jowē is dead—he thought. His mind was still, too still; she could sense only shock and bewilderment.—Others are dead too. Our minds cannot hold these new things—He looked up at the sky as a groan escaped him.—I felt their deaths, I prayed that I would be taken too—He covered his face and began to sob quietly. Leito took his arm and led him away.

A few young men and women were gathering near the bodies of the dead Merging Ones. Nenla BariWil was with them. Daiya went to the redhaired girl and stood near her friend as the young people lifted the bodies with their minds, preparing to take them to the fallow fields for burial.

Nenla gazed at her solemnly.

—I killed them—Daiya thought.

—You did not, you could not. You made them see and hear. What they saw and heard killed them—Nenla turned away and followed the others. The procession was a line on the edge of the fields. The bodies floated above the young people, borne on invisible biers.

Several children and a few adults had gathered around the shuttle. The children rubbed it, leaving handprints and dirty streaks. As Daiya approached, a few of them retreated, as if more frightened of her than of the craft and its inhabitants. A little boy was scraping at the side of the shuttle with a stone, unable to scratch it. The children, Daiya realized, were not afraid, only curious about these strange beings who, they seemed to understand dimly, were people.

Silla was almost under the craft, poking at the runners. Daiya reached over and pulled her out by the arm, shooing the others away. They scampered off, stopping at the edge of the field to watch the shuttle from a distance. The adults wandered away, following the funeral procession.

—What are you doing here?—Daiya asked, still holding her sister.—Where are Anra and Brun?—

Silla twisted free and pointed at the village.—They went—She waved her arm. Daiya shaded her eyes, unable to spot her parents anywhere nearby. She spun around, trying to peer through the darkened dome of the shuttle.

The door slid open and Etey emerged. Her frizzy hair was wilted, her perfect face stiff. Silla touched Etey's lifesuit, rubbing her hand on the woman's thigh. Daiya raised a hand to slap Silla away.

“Leave her alone,” Etey said. She sat down on the ground as the door slid shut. Silla sat next to her, pulling at her arm. Daiya touched her sister's mind, looking at Etey through Silla's eyes. Of course, Daiya thought, wondering why she hadn't quite realized it before. Silla could see Etey as a human being; her mind was still too unformed to see her as anything else.

Daiya withdrew from the little girl's mind. “I told you not to come,” she said to Etey. She choked back the bitterness in her throat.

“The minds under the mountains drew me. I could not grasp everything they showed me, but they wanted me to come here, and the desire to do so became very strong.”

“You should have resisted.”

“I could not. I felt that I must try to reach your people. Reiho tried to stop me, the minds could not touch his thoughts, but I was determined to come and he refused to leave my side.”

“You wanted to come. You wanted to come anyway. The machines only used what was already inside you.” Daiya paused. They had done the same with her. All they knew was to give power to people to do as the people wished. “Now Reiho is dead, not to mention the others.”

“Reiho is not really dead, Daiya.”

“Don't lie to me. I saw him die.” She suddenly wanted to hit the woman, hurt her for bringing all this upon them. Etey, apparently sensing the wish, recoiled. “I tried to touch his mind, and he was gone.”

“He is not dead. It is true that only his body lies in the shuttle now, preserved, but I shall take him home and Homesmind will restore him.”

Daiya clenched her fists. “I know that you can do many things, but that is not possible. Don't tell me such lies.”

“It is not a lie. Homesmind holds Reiho's pattern and his memories. When we return, they will be restored. Why do you think I was so anxious to get him back here? His lifesuit could only have preserved him for a short time. Sometimes we cannot restore a person, especially after a serious accident, but Reiho will be all right.”

“His pattern?” Daiya murmured.

“Homesmind holds the pattern and memories of everyone who has lived on our world. We could make all those people live again, but we feel it is wrong to impose another identity on an individual now alive, even a small child, who must be allowed to acquire her own identity. But their work, their hopes, their experiences are all part of Homesmind. Reiho will live again, although he will not remember his temporary death.”

Daiya pressed against the shuttle, standing on her toes. She peered through the dome. Reiho lay on a reclining seat, stiff and still, covered by a clear carapace. She wrinkled her nose against the dome, trying to hope. She sent a tendril into Etey's mind; the woman had said part of the truth.

Her legs wobbled. She sat down abruptly, realizing how weak and tired she was. She searched through the channels of Etey's mind, then withdrew. “There is a thing you haven't said, Etey.”

The woman started to shake her head, then stopped. “Yes, you are right. Reiho will have his memories, his experience, everything. But one thing will be different. There is an emotional connection we cannot restore. He will have everything, his memory will be clear, but he will feel as though his past experiences have happened to someone else, or as if they might be a dream. He will be Reiho, he will live as he would have, entirely in character, but his life up to now will seem to him like another's life. He will feel a distance from part of himself.”

“Then his soul is gone,” Daiya murmured. “You'll give him life without his soul.” Whatever Reiho might recall in this new state, he would not think of her as a friend, would not feel that bond; that would be gone. She would only be part of a dream, a disconnected memory.

Etey said, “There is no soul.”

“I don't believe that.”

“You can believe it or not, as you will.”

“If you deny the soul, you deny God.” The words sounded formal and empty. She thought of the mountains and the machines; men and women had made them, not the Merged One. Men and women had created a home on the comet. But they had not made the earth, the sun, or space. Daiya drew up her legs, hugging them, wondering what she could believe now.

“Let me try to say it,” Daiya went on, hoping she could make her thoughts clear to Etey, and wishing she could speak to the woman directly, mind to mind. “You will restore memories to that body, and call that person Reiho, and he will believe he is Reiho. But there is a Reiho I knew, the Reiho who came here, and went under the mountains with me, and took me to your home, and that Reiho is dead. You will bring to life a second Reiho. You don't have to say his soul is gone, but I know it is.”

“He will be Reiho,” Etey said sharply. Part of her mind seemed walled off from Daiya. “Think of yourself many years ago, as a child like this little girl here, and then tell me whether or not you sometimes feel disassociated from that person you once were. That is what it will be for Reiho. He would have felt that way in time. As you know, we lead longer lives than you do.”

“It is not the same. I know I'm different now from what I was cycles ago, but a thread connects me to that person. Reiho's thread has been broken. He has died. You said you think it's wrong to impress an identity, a set of memories, on a child because it would rob the child of its own identity, but you are going to take Reiho's memory and experience and put them inside the body of the boy in there. That means you are creating a new Reiho. What is the difference?”

Etey let out a loud sigh. Her wall disappeared, and Daiya felt her assent. “Very well. My reason tells me you are right. I know that, though I hoped to console you with part of the truth. I cannot hide from one who touches minds. The boy will still be Reiho for all practical purposes. He will act like Reiho, and be treated as though he were. That is not as cruel as returning him to life with no memory would be. But all this has nothing to do with souls.”

Daiya glanced at her, wishing she could have accepted a half-truth about Reiho. But her life, after everything that had happened, would have no meaning if she accepted lies again. She said, “Then you don't believe in God. Maybe I can't either, any more.” She was silent, a part of her wondering if the Merged One would strike her down for blaspheming.

“No, I do not. None of us does, not in the way you mean. But we have found nothing to disprove the existence of such a being.”

Daiya watched the woman, thinking she was only trying to console her. But Etey seemed to mean it.

“Does it matter?” Etey went on. “We must live as best we can. Some things will always be open to question.”

Daiya climbed to her feet. “Will you go now? I don't think anyone will try to hurt you, but...”

“Reiho will be all right now, his body is safe inside the shuttle. But I cannot leave until I know you are settled here.”

“Settled!” Daiya flung out an arm. “We shall never be that way again. Everything has changed.”

“I want to be sure you will be all right.”

She searched Etey's mind and found only a calm, distant compassion, tinged with guilt. Disappointed, she drew back. For a moment, Etey's thoughts touched hers. “I am sorry,” Etey said. “It is the best I can do. My feelings do not run as strong as yours.”

“Don't stay here,” Daiya said. “My people have much to consider, and your presence may disturb them. At least leave this area.”

“Very well. I shall go to the foothills, directly east. You can find me there, at least for a little while. I do have more time, according to our agreement.”

“You did not keep your part of the agreement.”

Etey looked down at the ground, then at Daiya again. “I did what I thought I had to do, and what the cybernetic minds of Earth wanted me to do. I did not know what would happen. Perhaps if I had, I would not have come, and there would not have been so much death. But before you condemn me, you should remember the thousands your village condemned to death, the children you call solitaries and those sent into the desert. I did what I thought was right. It is no more than what you did.”

Daiya thought of the ruin their supposedly right actions had caused. She leaned over and took Silla's hand as the child got up. “I must take my sister home.”

“Your sister? I did not realize.”

“I must take her home.”

They walked near one of the ditches. Daiya moved slowly so that Silla could keep up with her. They passed a small group of people sitting near one of the ditches. A man looked up as she passed. His face was filled with grief.

Daiya gazed at the ground, watching her feet tread the earth. The space around her was filled with sorrow so pervasive that she had to keep up her wall. Silla, affected by the sadness, began to cry. Daiya built a wall around her sister, then projected a mental maze into Silla's mind to keep her occupied. Silla threaded her way through the maze while Daiya wondered what she would say to her parents when she reached the hut.

The village was quiet as they approached. It looked deserted. The huts suddenly seemed fragile to her, about to crumble. The streets were strewn with thatching. She was home, after going through so much to be here. It did not feel like home any more. The paths were narrower than she remembered them to be. The village seemed shabby and mean, the roofs of the huts like the backs of beasts whose heads were buried in the ground.

She let down her wall as they drew nearer to their hut. Silla gurgled. She had conquered the maze. Daiya sensed a strand of Anra's mind. She picked up Silla quickly and ran to the doorway.

Anra was in labor. She squatted naked on a mat in the corner while Brun held her hand. Two lanterns flickered on the table; the reddish light danced eerily on the walls.

Anra exhaled sharply as Daiya thrust Silla through the doorway.—Daiya—Brun thought, without looking up. Anra sucked in some air, then exhaled again. Her body shone with sweat.

Daiya hung back in the doorway, feeling the agitation in her mother's mind. Her own muscles contracted as Anra bore down and pushed.—Isn't it early?—she thought, not knowing what else to say.

—Only a little early—Brun replied. She caught the unexpressed undercurrent in his thoughts; the events of the day had been too much for Anra.—Come and help us—he went on.

Daiya hurried to his side. Anra was breathing heavily now, using all her strength to push out the baby and suppress her own pain. Daiya drew on as much power as she could, easing things for her mother.

Anra suddenly smiled. The head of the child emerged. Brun caught the baby. Silla slapped her hands together. Daiya eased Anra to the mat. Brun lay the baby on Anra. The child was a girl. Brun got up and went to the cauldron over the low fire. He returned with a cloth and began to bathe the baby gently.

Daiya suddenly began to tremble. Her face was covered with sweat. An unreasoning panic washed over her. Brun looked at her sharply, thinking,—If you can't control yourself, get away—She rose and went to the table, collapsing onto a bench and burying her head in her arms while masking her feelings.