Quozl (33 page)

The story went on for some time, interrupted periodically by the image chapters humans called commercials, which Chad had explained to him were flashy, fast-moving, expensive sequences designed to convince observers to buy things they did not need at prices they could not afford. Human commerce was as much a mystery to the cooperative Quozl as was human intelligence.

Eventually, mercifully, the screen went dark. He felt no relief. There was no escape from what he'd seen. The images had burned themselves into his mind.

Short-key-Leaps and Tries-simple-Glow were both staring at him, without the slightest pretext at courtesy. “I have not told the Head of Council or the Burrow Masters yet,” Short informed him. “No one knows of this except myself and Tries-simple-Glow. They will have to be told eventually, but Tries and I thought it might be instructive to obtain your reaction first.”

“Can anything be said?” he replied dully. He launched into the most elaborate and lengthy apologia he'd ever attempted. In verbosity and eloquence it far exceeded the speech he made to his peers when his solo surface sojourns had first been discovered.

Now he understood the formality with which Short-key-Leaps had treated him and the outright coolness of the female. But it wasn't his fault, he wanted to shout! It made no sense. Chad would never do such a thing. Nor would Mindy. Both had promised. There had to be another explanation.

If only he could think of one.

While he wrestled with conscience and memory, Tries-simple-Glow had recalled final images to the screen. One chosen from previous study gleamed brightly, fixed immovably so it could not be ignored. It was a short list of human names.

Short-key-Leaps pointed to one. “That is the name of one of your two human contacts, is it not? Our semantics program identifies ‘story editor' as one who supervises the writing of many stories.”

Runs could read English perfectly. “The name ‘Chad Collins' is not present?”

“He is nowhere mentioned,” Tries informed him.

“Then this outrage,” he said evenly, “is wholly the responsibility of his sibling.”

“Merely because his name is not mentioned in context does not mean he is blameless,” Short-key-Leaps insisted. “He may have given advice and made suggestions. The fact that his name does not appear means nothing.”

“It must mean something,” Runs argued, “or it
would
appear.”

“It doesn't matter. What matters is that your humans lied. One of them, at least, if not both.”

“I cannot believe it.”

“The proof is recorded for anyone to see.” There was bitterness in Tries-simple-Glow's voice, much more in the rapid movements of her ears.

“How widely is this broadcast being viewed?” Runs asked tiredly.

“We have no way of knowing.” Short gazed thoughtfully at the screen. “But Tries believes it is seen by many. Otherwise the natives would not go to the expense of relaying it to many receiving points via satellite.”

“How long has it been available for observation?”

“Quite some time, apparently,” said the female technician.

“Has there been any recent increase in the number of humans visiting the vicinity of the colony?”

“For one whose future is precarious you ask many questions.” Short glanced at the technician. “It is something Tries and I have wondered about ever since she made her initial discovery. The answer to your question is no. Surface teams report no unusual native presence in the area of the colony site.”

“We believe that is because this program is presented as pure entertainment directed at young humans,” Tries said. “None of it is conveyed as fact. Any adult viewing it would have no reason to think of it as anything other than fiction.”

“This mitigates but does not eliminate the danger this severe breach of security poses. We must decide how to present it to the Burrow Masters and what steps to take.” Short-key-Leaps was watching Runs closely.

Those “steps” would surely involve his future, Runs knew, wondering if he would ever see his friend Chad again. He still thought of him as his friend until proven otherwise. Of his sibling Mindy, Runs was less certain. The broadcast had identified her as a participant in the treason.

He could not find out what had happened without talking to them, and he feared greatly that necessary meeting would not be permitted.

It was a very small, intimate gathering. Short-key-Leaps was there together with Tries-simple-Glow. There were two researchers from the surface studies team and the Masters of Burrows Four and One.

Next time it might be only two: himself and his executioner.

“So what are we to do now?” Burrow Master One wasted no time. “The humans know of our existence and our secret is no more.”

“Not necessarily, Honored Elder.” Short-key-Leaps gestured with an ear in Tries's direction. She rose to explain.

“It is clear,” she said by way of conclusion, “that the humans consider these images and stories pure imagination. I have carefully reviewed more than twenty of them, and the location of the colony is nowhere mentioned. In addition, they are directed solely at preadolescent natives. It would appear that adults are involved only to the degree necessary to create the episodes and advertise”—she had to explain the uniquely human term—“products, primarily toys and nonnutritional foods.”

The Master for Burrow Four spoke up. “Can we do anything to stop it?”

“It is possible to interrupt the transmission,” Short-key-Leaps informed them, “or with time destroy the satellite relay. However, as I am sure you can see, this would only result in the humans moving the transmission to another relay and rapidly working to locate the source of the disruption. I believe such an action is out of the question.

“It would solve nothing, since so many broadcasts have already been seen. We cannot repeal what has gone before.” Short-key-Leaps glanced for support in the direction of the two senior researchers who had accompanied him to the meeting. Both sets of ears responded affirmatively to his wordless inquiry.

“Furthermore, I am informed that at this point it might be in our interest to see that these broadcasts continue.”

The two Burrow Masters relieved themselves of their confusion; Four with gestures, not all of them polite, and One with words. “That assertion requires more than simple explanation, Honored Mind.”

“I request elaboration from my colleague Places-peers-Cleansing.”

Short resumed his seat while another elderly Quozl rose. Runs thought his use of wire strips to line his right ear particularly modern.

“My associate and I have recently been granted access to the research materials accumulated by Tries-simple-Glow. We have been examining them intensively, studying their contents and debating their meaning.

“Our conclusions are, somewhat to our own surprise, unrelentingly positive. These fictional Quozl are portrayed as friendly, peaceful, affectionate, and helpful. They are also shown to be clumsy, comical, foolish, childish, and incapable of complex speech or thought. Lest one feel insulted, the young humans are often similarly pictured. To be brief, Quozl are shown to be not only harmless but positively benign. In our minds this far outweighs the many other inaccuracies.

“This is the image of the Quozl that is being presented weekly to millions of young natives. While it may not be true, it is useful. Eventually we must make contact with the natives. Open contact, not furtive and limited as now exists. It had been hoped this could be put off for another two hundred cycles. However, it is clear that events,” and he glanced in Runs-red-Talking's direction, “have rapidly outpaced our desires. We must therefore adapt as best we can to developments over which we can exercise no control.

“As these broadcasts are presented as fiction and as they are directed at children and since they are unremittingly positive in tone, my associate and I believe we should do nothing to try and curtail their dissemination. When wider contact comes it may be with adults who spent their maturing time believing the Quozl to be clumsy, harmless clowns.

“If this course of reaction is accepted by the authorities, it is further recommended that we attempt to take a forceful role in additional developments.”

Runs could hardly believe his ears, which for a Quozl was tantamount to a confession of unconsciousness. The Burrow Masters were no less dumbfounded.

“You are saying,” muttered One, “that we should provide additional information to assist our betrayer?”

“Where revelation is concerned, we have lost the initiative.” The Elder spoke forcefully. “If we cannot stop it, let us at least try to steer it in those directions which may prove most salutary to us. Screened information can be supplied to the two humans through our,” and he all but choked on the word, “ambassador.”

Instead of feeling flattered, Runs-red-Talking wished desperately for a deep, warm pouch to crawl into. He was to be raised to the status of ambassador. How wonderful. It explained why he felt vilified, despised, and universally disliked by everyone in the room.

He tried to find some solace in the knowledge that contact between himself and his friends would not be cut off. When the next warm cycle began he would be able to find out exactly how this terrible thing had happened. Only, several respected Elders did not necessarily believe it was so terrible.

In fact, they seemed to think that all the deceit, lies, and lawbreaking on the part of him and his friends might ultimately result in developments beneficial to the colony. If so it would be the result of remarkable good luck rather than careful planning.

How long would that luck hold? How long before the next betrayal, the next unintentional revelation resulted in something harmful to himself and his fellow Quozl? He would have to have a very long talk indeed with Chad and Mindy. Long and intense.

If one kept throwing triangles, sooner or later they would start to show up points-down.

XVI.

T
HE FIRST MEETING
the following summer was comedy instead of drama. The Quozl instinctively danced all around the subject uppermost in everyone's mind while the two humans had no idea that knowledge of Mindy's betrayal was thoroughly documented in alien archives. There was no hiding the fact that something was wrong, however.

For one thing, Chad did all the talking while his sister hung uncertainly in the background, saying nothing and glancing furtively at her brother and the members of the study team. Runs-red-Talking had become adept at interpreting the extraordinary range of human facial expressions. He knew things were not as before but was too Quozl to come out and ask why things had changed.

As for Chad, he saw that the amount of ear-twisting and dipping was unprecedented. With the directness of his kind he inquired as to the reason. There followed a fair amount of verbal sparring until it was discovered that each side was proceeding to the same destination.

Chad was stunned and Mindy delighted to learn that not only weren't the Quozl mad, but they had decided to help with her stories. Their emotions underwent a sharp reversal when Runs explained that this had been decided not by choice but by a feeling of necessity and that the elders were anything but pleased. They were going to assist her because they felt it was the only option left to them. It was a stern lecture and Runs was as upset as Chad had ever seen him. Mindy appeared properly abashed but her brother could tell it was all for the Quozl's benefit, all for show. He knew she wasn't upset. Embarrassed perhaps, but not upset.

Now that all the little secrets were out in the open the atmosphere at the riverside camp lightened considerably. The study team went about its recording and gathering while Mindy sketched and observed and pressed them for information. Chad and Runs were left largely to themselves, which pleased them greatly.

They sat on the big rock that stuck like a finger into the current. Water churned around its upper edge, flowed swift and gentle around its base. Runs dangled his long feet in the cool water while Chad squatted nearby, engaged in the peculiar human game of throwing pebbles into the depths of the stream.

“They must have been furious.”

“Oh, they were extremely distressed. Extremely.” Runs spread his toes, let the water flow between them. “You can imagine the shock when in the course of examining routine human transmissions one of our people found that we were the subject of regular broadcasts to millions of your homes.”

“I was just as shocked and surprised. As soon as I found out I laid into Mindy but good! Didn't matter. She'd thought it through long ago and she was ready for any argument I could muster. That's the trouble with a secret. Once it's out, it's out.”

Runs's left ear dipped in agreement. “Our Elders were driven to the same conclusion. There is only one tunnel for them to travel.”

“It wouldn't matter if I could make Mindy stop. The show would continue with another writer at the helm. She doesn't own the property. That's how she put it, anyway. It's controlled by the company she works for.”

“She explained it all,” Runs said. “There are many strange economic concepts new to us. What matters is that it cannot be stopped unless your offspring choose to view these transmissions no longer. Tell me, honored friend, what do you think of the Elders' opinion? Might the presence of this transmission in so many human households someday help to ease the strain of contact between our species?”

“How should I know? Most of the time I live in a half-centimeter-diameter lens. I have trouble understanding the actions and reactions of my own kind. It's a big jump from laughing at cartoons to learning that the characters they portray happen to be real aliens living right next door. I can't imagine what will happen.” He tossed a big rock into the water, watched the current swallow the resultant ripples. “They didn't punish you for what you've been doing all these years?”